Beware the Banshee's Cry
by Thaena
Summary: Chet grew up with all the tales and had even experienced otherworld creatures who lived with the Celts however since being with 51's he forgot all that in the excitement of the pranks. Now, he was regretting it. Could one call back a Banshee?
1. Chapter 1

Beware the Banshee's cry

The characters from the TV Series Emergency! are not mine and I am getting nothing for telling these tales they tell me. I do claim the others in the story. The ideas of the story are mine and my storytelling great-grandparents.

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I grew up with a strangely mixed heritage. One set of grandparents first generation American born Irish, the other Swiss immigrant (father) Native American (mother). Both had lots of stories they passed on. They have been woven into this tale of mine. My mother's grandfather was from the old country and loved to tell the old tales. I think sometimes he did it just to see how wide my eyes would get. While living in Scotland, I heard the banshee cry. You believe what you want to; I know what I heard. By the time I could get a hold of my parents back in the States, they told me at the time I heard the banshee during my nightime, my brother'd dove into a lake and broke his neck.(Remember, there's a 6 hour difference backwards) Fortunately, another brother was there and pulled him out, using proper holds. They were able to resuscitate him and get him to a hospital. The banshee is said to warn the Irish family of sorrow and coming tragedy. It was a hard long road, but he did recover. He not only survived, but went on to become a Nuclear Physicist who specializes in the reaction of human tissue to radiation.

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Beware the Banshee's Cry

The Warning

**When at night the Banshees cry, **

**then someone in the house may die…**

Chet looked at the calendar in front of him, his eyes twinkling with glee, his bushy mustache unable to hide his grin. "Yessss! We're on shift that night! Oh, this year will be better then last year, no, better than _**any**_ year before! This year, the Phantom's Pranks will go down in LA County history!" He gleefully circled the date in orange marker. "Years from now, they ALL will talk about this Halloween." He tapped the date of October 31 with his finger, noting as he did that it fell on a Saturday night. "Even better!" He paused on another thought, "oh. I won't be off shift in time to go to All Saint's Day Mass with Mom." He shrugged, "Ah well. I'll see if they're gonna have an evening mass and I'll go then."

That settled in his mind, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and set out planning. Once he was sure he had all the needed items listed for his intended pranks, he set the pad aside and finished off the coffee in his cup. A glance at his watch showed it was time for the movie he wanted to see. It was the second day of their three-day break so he wasn't worried about getting any sleep. Then tomorrow, he'd hit several stores, make his purchases and have all evening to set things up and still get a good night sleep before shift the next morning. He grabbed the bag of popcorn he'd prepared earlier and a bottle of coke from the fridge. Once he had the TV set to the correct channel, he settled happily into his chair, eager to begin his feasting on both popcorn and movie. Soon he was staring intently at the screen, his hand stuffing his mouth with popcorn on its own accord.

The first movie of the double feature thriller was everything the advertisers promised it would be, filled with screaming gore drenched babes and nasty villains. The second movie? Ehhh. It was halfway through, the bad guy had yet to strike, the popcorn was gone, and Chet was finding it harder and harder to keep the screen in focus.

Suddenly a chill ran over Chet's body and with a loud snort he sat up, blinking to clear his fuzzy vision as he looked around. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, so with a shrug, he turned his focus back to the TV. The scene showed gentle rolling hills barely visible through the shifting mists. Suddenly a figure seemed to coalesce from the shadows, growing brighter and more distinct the closer it came. One could now make out the shape of a woman, tall and reed thin with long silvery hair moving about her body in the breeze. She appeared to be almost floating inches above the landscape.

Chet leaned forward, feeling his heart-rate pick up with excitement. As she came closer, she raised one hand, extending one long bony finger straight toward . . . Chet?

"Son of O'Ceallaigh," an eerie breathy voice spoke and Chet recognized the name as the ancient version of the Sept clan Kelly was part of, "your actions have called me from the land of Eire to this new world."

Chet blinked and the popcorn bowl slide from his grasp to clatter loudly on the floor. "Wha. . ." Then he looked around with a smirk. "OK, nice one Gage but I'm not buying it." He got up and looked around, trying to see the speaker and wires he just knew had to be hidden near his TV.

"There is no one here but us, buairt." He whirled so fast he lost his balance and fell back into his chair. He blinked, rubbed his eyes harshly and looked again, but the same sight was before him. "Auntie Einin! But . . . but you're dead!" He squeaked.

The woman before him gave him a wry smile as she pushed her long auburn hair over one ear. "Why thank ye for bringing that ta my attention. I always said you were a bright lad."

He smiled at hearing the familiar caustic wit. He'd missed that since her passing. No one could banter like his Aunt. Then he realized again he was talking to his _dead_ Aunt. '_**I must be dreaming**_.' he thought, then shrugged. '_**oh well, there are worse things to dream about.**_'

"You look great . . uh . .. "

She sniggered at him, "You're still full of blarney, Chester. I look great for a 15 year old corpse?"

At that he frowned, "Has it been that long?"

She nodded, "Yea, lad. Eighteen years since the break up. Fifteen since your promise." Now she stepped closer, her eyes filled with Irish anger. "The promise you broke! Now _she's_ here to collect." She pointed back over her shoulder.

Unwillingly, Chet's gaze followed that finger and saw that the figure he'd seen in the TV was now standing behind him. Slim body clothed in a white filmy robe that ever shifted with unfelt breezes, her long silver hair blowing about her body, covering and uncovering her face which was sharply planed, sometimes beautiful, the next moment a hag, her eyes flashing crimson.

Chet's own eyes widened and he took several involuntary steps backward. "Banshee!"

"Yes. You were told the night you swore the oath that if you ever broke it, the payment would be death. Now, it's time to choose. When, Chester?"

Chet's heart felt like it would explode as his mind raced. This was an old spirit; one of the oldest in Irish legends, the one who foretold death, who mourned that death with the family and who escorted the newly departed soul away from its earthly home. He'd heard the Banshee cry once before—the night he knew his aunt had died. Even though that hadn't been confirmed until nearly five years later, he'd known. Then his mind begin going through all the stories he remembered hearing about mortals dealing with the Shee and how human cleverness could be used to tric…uh…shift the outcome for the human. So now he started.

He nodded, "Ok. I remember the promise, and it did say I was to suffer pain and death, but death isn't the only way I can suffer or the only kind of death being the loss of life." He began to get excited as his thoughts firmed in his mind.

Eninin's green eyes narrowed as she watched him, "Chester," she drew that name out as a threat, "Be very aware of what you are doing. This is no clever game."

But he ignored her, intent on willing the Banshee to take his offering. "I could suffer death of spirit, that would be just as bad as . . .as . . .physical death, right?"

Slowly the Banshee nodded, her eyes now an abyss of darkness.

Trying hard to conceal his delight, he continued, "Soooo, if like something were taken from me, something that I cared a lot for, it would cause me pain and suffering and a death of spirit, sorta a exchange, a . a . . a trade, yeah, a trade, a switching of places, that kinda thing . . ."

"You must suffer…" The Banshee spoke in her breathy tones.

Chet nodded his head enthusiastically, "Oh, I will, I will. I promise!"

Suddenly the Banshee nodded a quick jerky movement, "Very well, son of O'Ceallaigh, I will amend this new promise with the old. I will return in four night's time for your decision then on Samhain, the promise will be fulfilled. 'Till then, son of O'Ceallaigh." And the unseen breeze blew heavily at her hair and robe and she was gone.

Chet turned to his aunt, his face proud of his achievements, and was surprised to see her sadly shaking her head at him. "Oh Chester. Will you never learn? Dealing with those of the otherworld is no clever game."

Chet smiled, "Don't worry, Auntie, I know what I'm doing. It will all turn out fine. Trust me."

Einin looked straight into his eyes, her own both sad and cold at the same time. "I hope so, my nephew, I dearly hope so. Be very careful what you think when the Banshee returns." Then she too was gone.

Chet woke up with a crick in his neck and looked around him, blurry-eyed. "Wow! That was some dream!" He shrugged as he quickly put it aside. He picked up the bowl from the floor, threw away the empty bottle, and went about getting his breakfast. That done and with his morning routine finished, he grabbed his wallet, keys and list and whistling _Wild Rover _left for his shopping.

Once he'd purchased what he need and ran a few other errands, he returned home and set about completing his bag of tricks, then placed it ready in his car, made sure his alarm was set correctly and went happily to bed.

"I'm telling you Roy, it's gonna be awful-- just awful." Johnny Gage, junior paramedic for squad 51's, voice echoed through the doorway long before his lanky body showed. "we've got duty on the 31st. The _**31**__**st**_, man! Don't you realize what that means? Not only will the whole rest of LA be crazy what with all the . . .the Halloween parties and the trick or treaters and all, but Kelly will be . . will be."

"Will be what," came a softer resigned sounding voice.

"I dunno what he'll be, but I can just beat I won't like it." Johnny's voice finished as it drew closer. "But this year, I'm gonna be ready for him. Yes sir, no matter what he's dreamed up, I'll be prepared. He isn't gonna catch me, uhuh, no way."

In the locker room, finishing up their dressing, Mike Stoker, the engineer and Marco Lopez, lineman, gave each other a knowing glance. They both turned expectantly toward the door leading from bay, however, first through the doorway was the sturdy shape of Roy DeSoto, senior paramedic and Johnny's silently suffering partner. He caught the other two men's glance and rolled his eyes as he walked over to his locker.

Directly behind him bounced Johnny, all lanky 6'1, dark haired dark eyed 160 lbs of him. He didn't walk to his locker, he bounded to it, then stopped, eyeing the door warily suddenly stock-still.

"Hey Roy?" Roy turned as a hand tapped his back. Then he realized it was on the other side of him, stifled a sigh and faced Johnny.

"What Johnny."

Johnny was eyeing his locker, getting so close his nose almost touched the smooth wood. "Can you . . .ummm, I mean just . . .uh . . ."

Roy did sigh this time and turned back to his own dressing. "It's your locker, you open it." He paused with a smile, "Besides I thought this year you were prepared."

Johnny frowned at his partner then carefully, moving off to one side, he reached out one finger and then yanked the door quickly open.

"Wow!" a sarcastic voice piped up, "That was really something, Gage. Whatcha gonna do for your next exciting trick?"

Johnny glared over his shoulder at the short mustached man grinning at him from the doorway.

"Oh shut up Chet."

Marco and Mike exchanged amused glances then headed out of the room. Chet moved closer to the man he called 'his pigeon'. "You look a little keyed up today, Johnny-boy. Someone put uppers in your wheaties?"

"Huh?" Johnny turned to look at him and frowned, "What? Chet what are you . . what kinda remark . . . no!"

Chet chuckled, knowing full well that when Johnny stuttered it meant his mind was thinking too fast for his mouth to keep up with it. That was when he got his pigeon the best because no matter what he-Chet- said, Johnny always sounded lame and confused. He patted the younger man on the head where he was bending over, untying his shoes. "Settle down, boyo, slowly, don't overwork that little pea brain of yours. The shift hasn't even started yet."

Johnny sat up quickly, knocking Chet's hand from his head, "What are you . . .Just . ..just get outta here, Kelly."

Chet chuckled and with one last pat, put his hands into his pocket and whistling _Wild Colonial Boy_, left the locker area.

Johnny watched him go, his uniform shift loosely held in his hands, his eyes slightly narrowed. He turned to his partner. "You see, Roy! See! See!"

Roy finished pinning his badges on his shirt as he told his partner, "What I see, Johnny, is that you're gonna be late for roll-call if you don't finish getting dressed."

"Huh?" He questioned then turned his attention from where he still stared after Chet back to his hands then down his slender body. He had his boxers and white t-shirt on but no pants, and was in his stocking feet. "Oh. Yeah. Right." He quickly pulled on his shirt then reached into his locker for his pants. He tugged at them but they remained on the hanger. Confused, he tugged a little harder. The hanger swung wildly but the pants stayed bent over the wire. He slid his hand along the fold and cried out in surprise, yanking his hand back, sticking his finger into his mouth as he pulled down the hanger to inspect it closer.

Alerted by his friend's yelp of pain, Roy turned back and moved closer to him, leaning in to see what had happened. Johnny muttered darkly under his breath then shouted, "Kelly!"

Roy looked from the hanger to the finger Johnny still sucked and back. Now Johnny was pulling something from his pants and carefully sticking it into the small dish he kept in his locker to hold loose change and his badges once he removed them from his shirt.

"Pinned your pants to the hanger, huh?" Roy could now see the problem. He pulled the injured finger out of the younger man's mouth to exam it but Johnny pulled away. "I'm ok, I'm fine."

"You're gonna need a bandage on that," Roy said, frowning. "It's still bleeding. Looks like you ripped it pretty good."

Johnny now checked his finger over himself, squeezing it and watching the blood well up and drip. "Looks like I caught the edge right by the nail." He murmured. Then a paper towel blocked his view. He took the offered item and pressed it against the wound. He held pressure on it for awhile, checked it, held pressure again, checked it again, then with a heavy sigh, wrapped the towel firmly around his finger and tried to quickly finish dressing while not getting blood on his fresh uniform.

Just as he buckled his pants, his hand was picked up and before he could protest, Roy had removed the now bloody towel, wiped the cut down and applied a proper bandage. Johnny gave his partner a weak grin as he began attaching his badges.

Roy smiled back at him. "I'll have a cup waitin' for you." He said as he left the room. He heard a muttered, "'Kay." as the door closed behind him.

Shaking his head, Roy entered the kitchen. Mike looked up briefly from where he read the paper on the couch and Marco turned from the stove with a fresh cup of coffee in his hand.

"I saw you get into the squad, Roy. Whatta matter? Widdle Johnny cut himself trying to shave?" Chet snickered from his place at the table. Marco rolled his eyes at Roy who shook his head yet again.

"Chet, pranks are ok, but watch it. He tore his finger pretty deeply on those pins in his pants. You know that in our jobs we get pretty nasty and having an open wound like that is an invitation for infection." Roy cautioned the other man.

Chet shrugged, and sipped his coffee nonchalantly. "I have no idea what you mean, Roy. It must have been something from the Phantom. This IS his time of year you know." He drank more, then set the cup on the table and stretched. "Beside, no one ever died from a little pin-prick. My mother hand-sews and she sticks her fingers all the time. She says it's good luck to leave a little blood on the things she makes. Sorta like she's blessing it." Roy sighed as he filled two cups with coffee, knowing that most of his caution to the prankster would be customarily dismissed.

Chet chuckled silently to himself over the passing conversation. _**'Boy, Roy sure worries over Gage. He's not that fragile, although I gotta admit, he's been hurt a time or two. But com'mon, it was just some straight pins. Nothing dangerous.'**_ Then he frowned as another thought crossed his mind. Something in Roy's words struck a remembered cord. Someone else had told him something similar years ago. Faintly he could hear a female voice caution him, '_**Remember Chester, a prank is only funny if all parties eventually laugh, including the one pranked. And causing another pain should never be considered funny.'**_ He was sure the voice was that of his Aunt Einin's. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the voice and thoughts attached, delighting instead over all the plans he had for his pigeon this coming week.

"Morning, morning, morning everyone!" Johnny chirped as he bounced into the room. He headed straight for Roy who handed his partner a full cup. He grinned and sipped the brew.

As one, the two then came over to the table and, as was their habit, pulled out chairs beside each other and sat down, almost completely in sync. Chet hid another snicker behind his cup. "Heard you had a little trouble dressing, Gage. Do we have to make sure somebody stays with you to help you?"

Johnny narrowed his eyes at Chet and muttered darkly, "Oh, shut up Chet."

Chet shook his head in mock amazement. "Again such a witty come-back. I must say, your skills of elocution astound me." Marco choked on a chuckle and Mike pulled his paper higher, even Roy found himself smiling at Chet's clever comment.

Johnny's eyes narrowed further as he glared at Chet but he didn't answer.

Chet had baited him enough to know he had him. He inhaled to deliver yet another sting when his eye caught on the hand Johnny held his cup with—and the bandage on his index finger that was already soaked dark red. The comment died as he turned his head. He hadn't really meant to cause any real damage to the paramedic. Part of him acknowledged the truth in what Roy had said. And of the two, if one was likely to get into something messy and then get sick because of it, it would be Gage. Chet sighed, some of the delight in his well-executed prank diminished. Then he strengthened his resolve. '_**Well, Roy will keep an eye on him. He worries over the kid worse than a parent**_,' He was too excited about the lovely list of pranks he had carefully lined up for the youngest crewmember. '_**And they won't hurt him, physically at least**_.' he assured himself with another smile.

Johnny pointedly turned his back on the Irishman after glaring at him for several heartbeats and said to his partner, "I'm gonna start in on the squad. I have a feeling it's gonna be a busy shift." He finished off his coffee as he walked over to the sink. He rinsed out his cup and turned, walking back past the table toward the door to the bay.

Roy had nodded at the other paramedic's words, "Yeah. I think so too. I got the report from Dwyer before he left. They had a slow night but a busy day so we'll need supplies. He also said we'll need to fuel up fairly soon." He too finished his coffee and followed his partner toward the squad.

Johnny called in the calibrations and reset the batteries while Roy pulled out the various boxes and the supply and beginning shift checklists. When Cap walked out of his office a few moments later, he glanced over where both of his paramedics squatted beside the squad, their supplies spread out before them. Johnny had both hands buried in the drug box, sorting and counting and calling out answers to Roy's requests.

Cap watched them for a few moments, amazed again in how fluidly the two unlikely partners work together. This station had been his first exposure to the new paramedic program and he'd only been here now a little less that a year. At first, he'd been surprised at how different the two men were; one quite single, the other very married, one in constant motion, the other's every seeming move very calculated, one prone to emotions all over the spectrum, the other as smooth as a sheet of glass. He'd thought for a while it was a combination programmed for eventual disaster and yet to his amazement, he quickly learned each balanced the other out. Together they were as smooth, as successful, and as professional as any team a Captain could ever dream of. And he counted both now as friends.

With a smile, he called out, "Roll call gentlemen." Both turned instantly to him and, as he could have predicted, Johnny's face broke out into a grin. "Sure thing Cap. Just let us get this stuff back." As the two began inserting the items back into their places, the tones sounded.

Johnny looked at Roy, "Here we go!" Roy nodded as they quickly secured the rest of their equipment, shut the compartments, and ran to their respective places while the dispatcher's voice toned out;

"Squad 51, man injured by power tool, 23875 South Pendleton Blvd. 2-3-8-7-5 South Pendleton Blvd. Cross street Merchant. Ambulance is responding. Time out: 08:02"

Cap scribbled the address down as he grabbed up the mic and acknowledged. "10-4. LA. Squad 51 KMG 365." He tore off the sheet and handed it to Roy while Mike hit the button and the front bay doors slide open. Roy handed the sheet to Johnny, turned over the truck's motor, hit the lights and put the truck in gear. As it pulled forward down to the street, he hit the sirens. "Left" Johnny said as he looked the paper over and mentally reviewed the path needed. "We'll take Sepulveda first to Deacon. The map said Walker is down to one lane for repairs. Deacon will bypass it and bring us out to Merchant."

Roy nodded his understanding, knowing that Johnny was just giving him a head's up. His talented navigationally oriented partner would make sure he knew about each turn as they reached it. Johnny scanned the street signs as well as the red-lighted intersections, calling out "Clear" to his partner at each. Soon they were pulling into a nice neighborhood with long driveways, multi-floored houses and well kept lawns.

Both men leapt from their vehicle and ran to the compartments, pulling them open and grabbing out gear. As they headed up the walkway, they heard a frantic voice call out, "Here! Over here!" They followed the sound.

Both men rounded the corner and saw a garage set back from the house. Standing up and then running toward them was a man, approximately 25 with blood splattered across his face and chest and dripping down one arm and hand. Johnny quickly freed his hands of the equipment he carried and rushed toward the man, saying, "Whoa there, whoa, now hang on. Let me help you."

The man tugged out of the gentle hold Johnny had on him and instead grabbed the startled paramedic and pulled him toward the side of the wrap-around porch.

"Hurry! Hurry! It's my wife! She can't breathe! She's bleeding! Do something!"

Johnny dug in his heels, trying to get a better look at the man in front of him. "Hold on, hold on. My partner will take care of your wife. Let me take a look at you."

The man's eyes were wide and panicked as he pulled harder on Johnny, causing him to stumble slightly, "I'm not hurt!" He screamed. "It's not me! My wife! Carol! Carol's hurt!"

Johnny regained his balance but still held his ground. Desperate now, the man grabbed both of Johnny's shoulders and put his face right into Johnny's as he screamed, "It's not me! This is fake! It was a trick all right! A Halloween trick! OH GOD! Carol! She's hurt for real." Seeing in Johnny's wide blinking eyes he still didn't believe him, he swiped one hand over the blood dripping from his arm and swiped it across the paramedic's face. "It's not real! Coloring and Karo all right! I'm not hurt!!"

Johnny's tongue instinctively licked at the substance on his mouth and he tasted the familiar sweet stickiness. He turned and grabbed on the cases, shoving one into the panicked man's hands and headed toward where Roy had knelt beside a dark haired woman lying on her stomach. Behind him, a patrol car and the ambulance pulled up and stopped. The attendants set about getting out the gurney while the officer headed toward the two paramedics.

"Roy?" Johnny called out as he dropped beside his partner.

Roy shook his head as his hands moved across the woman's body. "Don't know yet. She's got a gouge bleeding on the side of her head over her ear. Breathing sounds a little rough."

Sure enough, they could hear the constricted sounds of her harsh breathing. Roy finished his fast assessment. "No other obvious injures I can see and her airway looks clear. Let's roll her over and see if we can find something else."

Carefully the two rolled the woman onto her back. She wasn't very big, her features petite and right now, slack with unconsciousness. Her lips were tinged blue and even though Roy jutted her jaw forward, her breath still wheezed. Roy began getting vitals while Johnny set about setting up the biophone. "Rampart, this is Rescue 51, how do you read me?"

Roy called out the vitals and Johnny wrote the information on the pad on top of the biophone.

"Rescue 51, we read you. Go ahead." Came Dixie's clear voice.

As he placed the receiver to his ear again, Johnny's his eyes caught a glimpse of something.

He frowned, leaning closer to inspect it. A tiny amount of blood marked the woman's neck and he traced it, trying to locate it's source as he said, "Hey Roy? There's something . . ." Then suddenly he cursed softly, his hand digging into the pouch on his belt. He pulled out a pair of scissors and a hemostat.

Roy turned to his partner and in surprise watched as the younger man began picking carefully at a slightly bloody area on the woman's neck. "Johnny, I don't think you . . ." his voice trailed off as Johnny snipped something then began pulling slowly and making unwinding motions. Finally, he held something up held tight in the hemostats, blood making the fine strands visible. Immediately the woman's breathing improved.

"What in the . . ." Johnny breathed, frowning. Leaning over his shoulder, the man gulped and sat down suddenly. "My . . .my fault. That's . . uh .. . that's the line I attached to the porch to drop a spider down on."

Instantly all three realized what must have happened but a squawking from the biophone pulled the two paramedics back to work.

"51, do you have a victim? 51, come in." Brackett's voice called.

Johnny dropped the line still attached to the hemostats into the biophone and grabbed up the receiver. He quickly called in the required information and before long, the woman—who had regained consciousness—and her husband, were seated in the ambulance with Roy.

As Johnny gathered the equipment Roy hadn't taken with him, he was joined by the officer. "Uh, Gage?"

Johnny turned and grinned at him. "What, Brady?"

"You ok?"

Johnny tilted his head in confusion, set the trauma box in its place then shut the compartment. "Yeah. Why?"

Brady Collins extended a handkerchief and wiped it across Johnny's face then showed it to him.

Johnny looked at the red mess smearing the handkerchief and rolled his eyes. He explained what had happened and Brady laughed then sobered, shaking his head. "He nearly killed his wife completely by accident." He looked up at the paramedic. "Some Halloween, huh."

Johnny nodded, "Yeah. Trick or treat." he said, his voice dripping sarcasm. With that, he finished up and drove off to Rampart to get his partner.

Johnny ducked into the bathroom as soon as he got to the hospital and washed his face. The red die left a reddish streak across his cheek but there was nothing he could do about that now. Fortunately, his natural coloring somewhat disguised it. After leaving the bathroom, he headed for the nurse's station and a cup of coffee with his favorite head nurse. "Hi Dixie,"

Dixie looked up and smiled, "Well if it isn't the other half of the hero team."

Johnny looked confused and Dixie pointed her pen toward a treatment door. "Mr. Jackson in there has been singing praises about your keen-eyes for the last fifteen minutes."

Johnny silently told her how he felt about that with a roll of his eyes. Dixie smiled, knowing later Johnny might be pleased but right now it was still too close to what could have been a tragedy.

"Did Roy . . ." Johnny began and Dixie nodded, "Kel and I both with the assessment. I think he's pretty proud of you too."

Johnny shrugged with one shoulder where he leaned on the counter, his head looking down at the pencil he drummed on the pile of charts. "He'd've seen it too."

"Maybe, but maybe not in time." A voice came from behind him just as Dixie shoved a full cup toward him.

Johnny turned to face his partner. "How's she doing?"

Roy accepted his own cup then told him about the Doctor's findings and how she'd fallen off the steps because something had tightened around her neck. He sipped it again before he finished with, "Doc said she should be fine. Slight concussion at the most. He'll keep her at least over night for observation but she'll probably be good to go by morning."

Johnny sipped his drink as he bobbed his head. "That's good, that's good." Then he patted his pockets, "Oh Dix, we need some stuff." He found the list and pulled it out with a look of triumph.

She took the list from him and began pulling out the supplies, talking as she did. "I didn't hear everything, Roy. Why were Mr. Jackson's clothes all covered in . . . stuff."

Johnny snorted as Roy answered. "He was working on making things for this weekend. You know, like fake blood from red die and karo syrup, wooden headstones, a coffin."

Dixie eyed him over her shoulder. "Ooookkkkaaaayyy?"

"Yeah, he said he was trying to set up the ultimate spook house for a neighborhood contest this weekend. It was while he was working the power saw that he got the idea of faking cutting off his arm and decided to see if the fake blood could really convince someone it was real. So he set up the fake arm on the table then poured the blood on it and over his sleeve, pulled his arm up inside it and then screamed. When he saw his wife look out the window, he held up his 'wounded arm' and fell to his knees. She must have called dispatch before she left the house."

Johnny shook his head, "Good thing she did. When we got there, she was barely breathing and her husband was totally panicked. By the time we would've been called, it would've been too late."

Dixie and Roy nodded in sad agreement. Johnny shook his head. "You know? He said he just wanted to see how "freaked out" she'd get. He said he thought it would be funny. I don't see what's so funny about scaring someone like that."

Neither one answered and with a sigh, Johnny finished off his coffee, picked up the supplies, smiled weakly at Dixie and headed out. Roy turned to go with him but both turned back when the nurse called out, "Guys?"

As they looked at her, she shook her pen at them, "I never think it's funny when someone gets hurt so you guys be careful out there." The two men gave her both a grin then with a slight wave, they headed out.

Once in the squad, Johnny called them 10-8 back at eh station to refuel and Roy headed that direction. For several miles, silence filled the cab. Then,

"Hey Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't get it."

"Don't get what?" Roy asked. When there came no answer, he glanced over toward his partner. Johnny was slouched back in his seat. His right arm resting on the door, his right hand bracketing his face, serious brown eyes staring out the windshield and dark brows angled into a frown.

"Don't get what, Johnny?" Roy asked again.

Johnny startled slightly at his name, "Huh?" He straightened slightly and looked at his partner. "Oh. I don't get what the big deal's about people wanting to scare people. I mean, look at that guy we just left! Now fortunately Doc said his wife is gonna be awright but what if she weren't? I mean, she hit her head pretty hard. Suppose she had hit her head on the edge of that concrete step instead of the grill. Now that coulda been really bad."

Roy saw where his partner was going. The doctor had told them that since the grill had moved as she fell, she had received more of a glancing blow. He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you're right. It would've been bad."

"And he panicked." Johnny continued as he warmed to the topic. "He didn't even think to call us. She'd called us for _him_. It's just lucky we got there when we did."

Roy nodded again, agreeing. "I don't know why, Johnny. I just don't know."

Johnny shook his head, "People just don't think. I mean, what was so funny about making his wife think he'd hurt himself that way? I mean, we see people get hurt like that all the time. For real! And it's not funny, not at all!"

Roy paused then looked at his partner, "Now wait a minute, Johnny. I agree with you that we see that and I agree it's not funny when it really happens." He paused again as he looked around at the intersection before he carefully turned the squad onto the next street. "But I remember you told me you went and saw that new horror movie about that guy with the chainsaw. You said you wanted to take a girl to see it just so she'd get scared."

Johnny turned in his seat, his brows down, "That's different, Roy."

Roy hid a grin at the affronted look on his partner's face. "Oh?' He asked, "How's it different?"

Johnny flipped out his hands and resettled back into his seat, "That's easy. It's a movie, that's how."

Roy blinked as he tried to follow 'Gage Logic'. Finally, he shook his head and admitted, "I don't see . . ."

Johnny turned again toward his partner, his whole demeanor one of explaining something to a child. "That's because it's Hollywood, Roy." At Roy's still confused look, he sighed and went on. "It was a movie. You knew it was all make believe. It's ok to be scared then because you know it will all end in an hour or so and everything will be awright." He shook his head, frowning again, "But in real life, well, you just never know, man, you just never know."

Roy's eyebrows raised in surprised. He actually not only understood his friend's point now, but also had to agree with him. Johnny was back in his slouch again, his hand on his face. "And if you really care about someone, then why would you want to panic them like that?"

Roy nodded again, "I don't know Johnny,"

Johnny gave a heavy sigh, "Neither do I, Roy, neither do I."


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry this is a short one. I'd hoped to have this done by now—planned on three chapters but **they** decided differently. They keep adding stuff to the tale. Plus it's been a bad week for me. What the doctors and I knew might happen but hoped wouldn't—did. Tests this week just confirmed it, the Erosive Arthritis has morphed into Rheumatoid Arthritis and I'm in the middle of a major flare. So now they are readjusting my meds to try to get me into remission…..sigh.

* * *

The Toting Up

Once at the supply station, they quickly refueled the squad, filed the required paperwork, placed themselves available and headed back toward their station. They were only a few blocks from 51's when the radio beeped.

"Squad 51, Engine 51. MVA. 1200 N. East Street. 1-2-0-0 North East Street. Cross street Sutherland. Police are on scene. Ambulance has been dispatched. Time out 09:42

"Squad 51, 10-4" Johnny acknowledged even as he finished writing out the slip. He took a quick look around as Roy flipped on the reds and asked, "Sutherland, take Wilson or Carmel?

"Neither. Construction." Johnny supplied and pointed off to the side. "Take the service road this next light. Follow it over to Hamilton and then take a right onto N. East. That should put us right near the scene."

Roy gave a nod as he executed the turn. Johnny, as always, swiveled his head this way and that as he watched traffic and read the signs. Once the squad was on N. East street, both men watched for the accident scene. Flashing red lights from the police unit alerted them even as Johnny pointed over to Roy's left. Roy maneuvered the squad to a safe position and stopped.

As the two men began pulling gear, they could hear the sound of Big Red coming closer. Vince Howard, a LA Sheriff who had worked with the two paramedics several times before, came up to the squad.

"Three cars. One tried to get in under the yellow, one tried to jump the green. One was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. The driver of the red car seems ok. Just a little sore, he says. His nose was bleeding when I arrived so you might want to check him. Driver of the truck says he's unhurt and there isn't much damage to the truck. The lady in the blue van has been in and out. When she's awake, she's been screaming." Vince quickly filled them in as he helped grab out gear.

Cap had walked up during the briefing and now commanded the engine crew. "Marco! Pull a line and start washing away this gas, Kelly get those cables."

Johnny called out, "Van" since he was the closest. Roy acknowledged him with a "Kay." and headed over to check the guy with the former bloody nose.

Johnny dropped the trauma box near the van door, nodding his head to the officer standing there. "We meet again, Brady. How's she been?"

Brady flashed a toothy smile at the paramedic then said, "She's been out a while now. She seems to be breathing ok." He placed a finger in his ear then wiggled it while wincing.

Johnny gave him a grin as he pulled on the door. "Mind if I check for myself?" he teased.

Brady helped him man-handle the door open then moved aside, "Be my guest. You're the one with all that special training."

All kidding aside now that he had his hands on the victim, Johnny turned completely professional. His hands moved around the woman's body checking and feeling.

"What you need, Johnny?" Marco's voice came from behind him.

"C-collar and backboard." He said around the penlight in his mouth. He grabbed the offered BP cuff from Brady and quickly wrapped it around the woman's arm. "Roy wants to know what you've got so he can tell Rampart." Chet's voice came next. Johnny nodded as he finished his initial assessment. He grabbed the pen and paper from his chest pocket and scribble down his findings then handed it to Brady who handed it to Chet. Chet then ran over to where Roy was holding the biophone. He handed the other paramedic the pad saying, "These are from Gage."

Roy took the pad, scanning the information as he said, "Rampart, I have info on victim number three. Victim is female, approximately 25, still trapped in car, contusion on right forehead with no depression, 1 inch laceration, bleeding controlled, abdomen soft and unremarkable. Possible broken left ankle. C –collar has already been applied. Vital signs are BP 132/84, pulse 98, respirations 12, pupils equal but sluggish." He laid the pad down, grabbed up his pen and prepared to write the instructions as they were relayed to him.

"10-4 Rampart. Continue with immobilization. Split ankle. IV D5W. O2 6 UPl. Update as soon as extricated." He repeated as he scribbled. He handed the pad back to Chet and asked, "Does Johnny need any help?"

Chet shook his head, "No, he's got Brady and Marco with him. I think the victim had her foot trapped under the petal by the way Gage was upside down in the seat."

Roy snorted once at that, familiar with how his partner could contort his slender body while trying to aid a person trapped. Chet headed back over, seeing that the three men were getting ready to pull the woman out. He handed the pad to Johnny who read it quickly, nodding over the information. Then the dark haired paramedic looked up. "Ok, we're ready to move her. Chet? Can you help me here with her feet?"

Soon the woman was out of the car, secured to a backboard and being placed on a gurney. Roy had already left with the other man who had had the bloody nose. His vitals had been off and he had a history of hypertension so Rampart had ordered him in.

Once he had his victim turned over to Dr. Morgan, Johnny left the room and headed toward the coffee pot. From his place standing next to Dixie, Roy grinned at his partner and handed him a cup.

Johnny took it and sipped the vital fluid before he said, "Morton thinks she'll be alright. Probably a slight concussion and the ankle is a clean break."

Roy nodded, "That's good. Mine will probably be here for the night at least. Brackett didn't like the rate on his BP. This accident might have turned out to be a blessing in disguise for him. Seemed he's been having headaches and Doc thinks they're from his blood pressure so he's ordering further tests."

Johnny raised his eyebrows at that, "Yeah? Well, that is lucky then. They might need to adjust his medication or something."

Dixie nodded in agreement as she made notations in a chart. "I heard that most of the damage to the vehicles was minimal as well. Seems maybe something good might come from this."

Just as the two paramedics finished their coffee and Johnny was rinsing their cups, the HT in Roy's hand beeped.

"Squad 51 what is your status?"

"Squad 51 available from Rampart Hospital." Roy replied as Johnny pulled out his pen and paper, ready to write.

"Squad 51 stand by for response," came the answer, then tones sounded and . . .

"Squad 51, report to police on hit and run. Corner Ritter and Autumn.

Ambulance is responding. Time out 11:35"

"Squad 51 10-4" Roy replied as Johnny finished his writing. With a smile and a "See you soon Dix," The two left.

Fortunately their hit and run turned out to be minor. A jaywalker had been bumped by a car just hard enough to knock him down. He did have a bruised area on his hip but declined medical help since he was actually on his way into his doctor's office right across the street. The squad rolled back into the station just after the engine crew were finishing their lunch.

"Ummmm, something smells good. I'm starving!" Johnny announced as he leapt from his seat. He met Roy near the back of the squad, his face covered in a grin. Together the two walked into the kitchen "Ya know? We got toned out before rollcall so I have no idea who's even doing what chores this shift."

"You've got the dorm, Gage, and DeSoto has the bay." Cap filled in his paramedics as the two approached the filled table. "Chow's on boys, better get it while it's hot."

Johnny and Roy quickly washed their hands then took their places at the table. Chet pulled the plates out of the oven where they were keeping warm. Johnny helped himself immediately to the potato chips, filling his plate as his stomach growled with his hunger.

"Geeeze Gage! Whadya do? Pick up a lion at the zoo on your way back?" Chet teased as the others snickered. Johnny ignored him, instead grabbing the ketchup bottle from the table. Just as he flipped the bottle over, the lid popped off and watered down ketchup gushed from the bottle, covering the paramedic and the paramedic's plate. Johnny looked down at the mess while Chet howled with laughter and the other men hid their initial smiles in various ways. But while Chet continued his laughing, the smiles died quickly out on the other's faces.

Johnny never looked up, but they all saw his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. He picked his plate up, dumped the spoiled food into the garbage, placed the plate into the sink and left the room, heading for the locker room to change.

Chet wiped his eyes as he got control back over his laughter and noticed he was now being stared at by four irate sets of eyes. "What?" He tried to sound innocent. "Why'd you all think I did something?"

"Maybe because Johnny's the only one here who ever eats his potato chips with ketchup." Mike remarked. Marco and Roy nodded.

Chet shrugged. "So? I imagine the phantom knows that too so it doesn't mean that I . . ."

"Fix him another plate, Kelly." Cap ordered, cutting off his excuses. Chet looked around, his face reddening. Cap sat back and scowled, "You _do_ have enough for him to eat, _**don't you**_?" The last words came out strong.

Chet blinked and nodded, "Sure Cap, sure. I made plenty." Inside he was thinking, '_**Damn, I was going to eat that for a snack later. Now I have to give it to skinny boy.'**_

Roy remained silent, eating his meal while he got the chance. The others finished up and began their other duties. Soon Johnny returned, fresh and clean. He went to the fridge and pulled it open. He grabbed a banana and the milk, set them on the countertop before bending down to peer into the fridge again.

"John, we have another plate . . ." Cap's words were interrupted by the tones. Johnny sighed heavily as he replaced the milk back in the fridge, grabbed the banana and headed out to the squad.

"Squad 51 Woman down. Mac's Market 3879 Clinic Avenue. 3-8-7-9 Clinic Avenue. Cross street Delaware. Time out 13:12."

Cap acknowledged the call, gave the call slip to Roy and softly said, "Feed him." Roy gave his captain a discrete nod even as he handed the slip to Johnny.

Hank watched as the squad rushed off, lights and siren going. Then, hands on his hips, he dropped his head and shook it slowly as he sighed heavily. With a determined set to his jaw, he re-entered the kitchen. Marco looked up as he entered, took one look at his captain's face and glanced over at his friend. He had just told Chet he thought messing with the paramedic's food was a dirty trick and Chet had laughed.

"Kelly." Cap barked.

Again Chet turned innocent eyes on his captain. He lifted the half-full plate. "I made him more, Cap. It's not my fault he got called out before he could eat it."

"Kelly, you know damn well in this business mealtimes are a catch-as-catch-can affair. And Gage can't afford to miss meals. He's too thin and his metabolism is too fast. Missed meals could result in a drop in his energy and reaction time and that could put not only him, but anyone working with him or anyone he's working on in danger."

Chet dropped his gaze to the plate as he realized what his captain said was true. He'd just never thought about it that way before. "I understand, Cap." he said. "I'll let the phantom know that meals are off the list."

Cap gave a firm nod. "Good. Now, as punishment, you will do Gage's chores today."

"Awwww, Cap . . ." Chet whined but Cap cut him off. "Kelly, don't even start. He didn't even get a bite first. And you have to admit, that as fast as John can eat, in the amount of time he would have had, if you hadn't pulled that stunt, he'd've had half his plate cleared."

Quiet snickers echoed around the room from the other two men who 'weren't' listening. And Chet had to admit, again, that Cap was right.

"Yeah, he would've. But I don't see why I have to do his work."

"Just think of it like this, that's less energy he'll have to expend." Cap said and showing that was the end of the discussion, he left. Chet grumbled as he sat down at the table again. "I still don't see why I have to do his work. I mean, I did my chores already. It isn't fair that just because little 'Johnny boy', "He said the name in a snide high-pitched voice before dropping back to his own tones and finished, "missed his meal because of a call, that I get stuck with extra."

"Come off it Chet! It's not that he missed his meal because he got a run that Cap's doing this, it's because of your little prank that Johnny hasn't had anything to eat and is probably operating on empty right now. You've heard how many times they've been called out already this morning. How much energy do you think that one banana will give him?" Mike frowned at the Irishman then walked out of the room in obvious disgust.

Marco shook his head, "I warned you, amigo. The water bombs and other things are one thing but mealtimes in a firehouse are sacred. Don't mess with them."

Part of Chet knew his fellow stationmates were right but the prankster in him was insulted over the joy being taken out of a successfully pulled prank. He sighed and looked down at the plate of food then, shrugging, began to eat it.

"Chet!" Marco exclaimed, "You just finished your meal. That's Johnny's!"

Chet looked up with a scowl. "Marco, you know Roy and Gage probably won't be back for at least a few hours. By that time, this won't be eatable. It's a waste of good food to just have to throw it away so . . ." he shrugged again and shoved another spoonful into his mouth.

Marco looked at him in obvious unbelief then shaking his head with a look of disgust on his face, he, too, left the kitchen.

Even though Chet was full, he forced himself to finish the plate, then took care of the dishes.

Roy and Johnny reached the market and began pulling out their equipment. As they worked, a man wearing a butcher's apron came running out shaking his head. "It's all right, don't bother." He puffed as he came up to them.

They turned, confused. "Sir, we're here now so why don't we just go ahead and check." Roy said.

The man halted before them, took several deep breaths then explained. "The lady is gone already. She slipped on some water draining from one of the cases. She didn't go all the way down but one of the clerks saw her and panicked. We told her she should stay here and let you guys check her out. I even offered to pay for the doctor's but she insisted she was fine and had too much to do before a party this weekend. She got her groceries and left."

Roy and Johnny exchanged glances and shrugging, Johnny began putting the equipment back. The man watched them. "I'm sorry you guys got called out. You probably missed your lunch too. I really am sorry about this."

Johnny gave the manager a smile, "Don't worry about it. And we're glad you called. That's our job."

The guy gave a rueful grin as Johnny's innards loudly protested and the dark haired paramedic felt his face heat in embarrassment.

"It _**did**_ make you leave your lunch. I hope it isn't ruined." The manager replied.

"Don't worry about us, it's not the first time and it won't be the last. And please, don't hesitate to call us again if you need us." Roy added as he climbed back into the cab. Johnny joined him and shut his door. The manager waved at them as they pulled out, Johnny calling them in as available.

The squad had only gone about a block when Roy turned off the main road. Johnny, who had been staring silently out the side window, suddenly sat up. "Roy? Where are we going?" He pointed off to the east, "the station's back that way."

"I know," Roy said but whatever he was about to add was interrupted by Johnny's digestive system's loud complaint. Roy glanced at his partner who was now again slouched in his seat, his hand covering his reddened face. "But I think we'd better feed that lion before it breaks out and does some damage."

"You mean more than it already has?" Johnny mumbled and Roy laughed. He patted his partner on the shoulder, "Come on partner, let's get some food into you before you faint." He'd noticed the slight tremble in Johnny's hand and knew his friend needed nourishment. They pulled into a fast food restaurant and, HT in hand, went in. The girl at the counter smiled brightly at the two men as they ordered. The boy working there looked them over, then looked out into the parking lot at the squad. His eyes were large as he faced them again, "Hey! You're those firemen doctors right?"

Johnny grinned, "Paramedics, we're paramedics not doctors."

"Right, right." He acknowledged then turned to the girl. "These guys can give shots and put splints on people and start dead hearts with a zapper. We read about the law that started them in our civics class."

She looked up at Johnny, her eyes glowing. "You mean you go into burning buildings, carry people out then heal them too? Wow."

"Not just burning buildings. I saw a tape of these guys pulling folks outta wrecked cars. You shoulda seen it; it was so gross." The boy gushed as he prepared their meal.

Johnny gave Roy a 'help me' look and Roy snickered. Johnny took the tray from the boy and thanked him, having to pull a little harder when the teen didn't initially let go. Both teens' eyes never left the pair as they looked for a seat.

Taking pity on his partner, Roy found them one near the door in a harder to see spot. Both the teens were leaning out to still watch them, whispering back and forth to each other. Johnny, his face red again, tried his best to ignore them while he ate. Roy chuckled as he sipped the malt he'd gotten. "Eat up, hero. You never know when we'll get a call to go rescue someone with our zapper."

Johnny glared at his friend over his burger, but he did eat a little faster. He had just pushed the last bite into his mouth when the HT gave three beeps.

"Squad 51, man down. Gus's Sporting Goods. 2377 Rally St. 2-3-7-7- Rally St. Cross street Carmicheal. Time out 13:02."

Roy snatched up the HT and acknowledged the call, while Johnny scribbled the address with one hand, and gathered the trash with the other. He was nearly knocked off his feet when the same kid who had been behind the counter pushed his hands away and began gathering it instead. "Here, let me do that. You guys go."

Johnny grabbed his drink as Roy said. "Thanks" and both men hurried off. The two teens watched as the paramedics climbed into the squad, pulled on their helmets and pulled out into the street, lights and sirens going. The boy turned to the girl with a satisfied grin. "That's what I'm gonna do. Just wait. I've already got the paperwork and next year after I graduate, I'm signing up."

The girl sighed and leaned on her hand, resting on the counter as she stared off where the squad had disappeared. "I think uniforms are so far out !"

The rest of the shift went the same way; with dinner for the two paramedics being what they grabbed at Rampart before the cafeteria closed. When they finally pulled the squad back into the bay, it was nearly 9:30 and they were both beat.

Two weary paramedics dragged themselves into the common area and plopped heavily into chairs. Johnny immediately slumped over the table, his head on his folded arms. Marco poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Roy who bumped his partner. Slowly Johnny turned his head so he could see Roy. Roy moved the coffee cup toward him as he raised an eyebrow.

Johnny just blinked at the cup for several long moments. Roy frowned, "Johnny?"

Johnny shifted so he could look into his friend's face then shook his head. "I'm too tired, Roy."

Marco frowned at his exhausted friend, then smiled widely. He replaced the pot back on the stove, grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured a glass of milk. He sat that down in front of the paramedic. He tapped Johnny's arm and once more the dark haired man raised his head. He spotted the milk and looked up at Marco with a slow smile. Without a word, he reached for and quickly drained the milk. Then with great effort, he pulled himself to his feet. He rinsed out the glass, placed it in the sink and leaned heavily against the cabinet. "I think I'm gonna head to bed. I can barely keep my eyes open."

Roy looked up from where he sipped his coffee. "I'll join you in a few, Junior." Johnny gave a faint nod and trudged out. Roy and Cap watched him go.

"Roy?" Cap asked, his voice full of concern.

Roy shook his head, "I think he's just tired. We had a busy day. And remember he was the one who rappelled down that cliff on that last rescue as well as climbed up and down five flights of stairs for that fire alarm. And that last guy he carried out had to outweigh him by at least a hundred pounds."

Cap nodded, he, too, was tired and the engine hadn't been nearly as busy as the squad. "I think making it an early night might be a good idea. There's no telling what the night might bring." He raised his voice, "Lights out in 20 gentlemen."

"Awww, Cap." Chet whined, "The late night special is coming on after the news and it's gonna be good. It's the original Dracula."

"Well you can watch it if you want," Cap said as he stood and stretched, "But I don't want to hear a peep out of you if we get a late call." He glared at the Irishman who hastily nodded his head.

Soon the other three men stumbled wearily into the dorm. Roy smiled to see Johnny already in his bunk, his arm over his eyes, deep asleep. Before long, he joined his partner.

Chet waited until there were no more sounds of movement coming from the dorm then set about placing various surprises. "If my shift doesn't trip them, well then, I'll just be spreading the fun to the next shift." He smiled at his own cleverness. Then yawning, he, too, set off for bed.

Fate was kind and the six weary men slept the night, waking somewhat refreshed with the wake-up tones.

Dressed and eager for the end of their shift, the six made their way into the kitchen area. Johnny had already filled the pot with the carefully measured grounds and water and placed it on a lit eye. Marco yawned, "Morning Johnny." as he pulled open the fridge. He took out eggs, butter and milk then grabbed the bread.

Johnny grinned, "Ummmm, making french toast, Marco?"

Marco grinned back at the younger man. Before long, the other members of the team began straggling in, sniffing the odors filling the area.

"Ummmm, fresh coffee." Cap said.

"And Marco's cinnamon French toast." Mike added. Johnny looked over at them from where he was pulling plates down. "Morning all."

"Morning," They called back. Roy grinned at how much just a few hours sleep had changed his partner. Once more, he was his energetic bouncing self. Cap grabbed a cup and checked the pot to see if it was finished. He grinned broadly as he poured. "Coffee's ready.

Johnny grabbed two cups and as soon as Cap had finished his, he poured the two Johnny held. Mike was right behind him then Cap poured one for Marco and placed it where the man could easily reacht it. Marco looked up from his cooking to smile his thanks. Cap nodded and sipping his coffee, he sat down.

Johnny handed one cup to Roy while he sipped his own. Mike stirred a little milk into his before sipping appreciatively. "Johnny, you do have a way with coffee."

"It comes from all those times he's camped." Roy added. He grabbed the sugar and turned it over the cup. After the desired amount fell, he stirred then sipped.

Johnny, who was watching him, sat forward in alarm when the blond man began to choke. "Roy? What's wrong?"

"Johnny! This is terrible!" Roy exclaimed. Johnny's face fell and hurt flashed in his eyes.

"It is?" He questioned.

Roy sputtered more as he tried to wipe the vile taste from his mouth with a napkin. Johnny sat back, his face still looking shocked. Mike took another sip of his and shrugged his shoulders. "Tastes like his coffee always does to me."

Cap took another sip of his, "So does mine."

"Well I think it's just awful. Almost as bad as Chet's" Roy turned to say more but stopped as he suddenly noticed the look on his friend's face. "Maybe there was still soap or something left in the cup." Roy amended as he reached for Johnny's cup and without a word, Johnny handed it to him, then stood, taking Roy's cup over to the sink. As Roy put Johnny's former cup to his lips, Johnny murmured, "Don't have sugar in it."

Roy placed the cup on the table. "That's right, you take yours black." He reached for the sugar again but Cap called out, "Chet's. Roy wait!."

Roy stopped, blinking at his Captain. "Taste it first, Roy."

Roy glanced over at Johnny who had turned his head enough to watch. At the sight of those sad brown eyes, Roy shrugged and drank.

"Well?" Cap asked.

Roy shrugged, "A little strong but ok I guess." He reached for the sugar again but Cap restrained his hand. Roy looked up, bewildered over his captain's actions. Cap gave a half smile, "Humor me. Taste the sugar first."

Again Roy shrugged and did as asked. Then his eyes widened and he looked up at Cap. "Cap! How'd you know?"

Cap leaned back in his chair with a satisfied look. "Call it a hunch."

Roy took the cup he had and stood. He walked over to his partner and placed it back into his hands. "I'm sorry, Johnny. It wasn't your coffee. Someone swapped the sugar with salt." Johnny's eyes widened with understanding then he frowned. "He knows you're the only one who puts sugar in their coffee. I'm sorry, Roy."

Roy dumped out his spoiled coffee, rinsed out the residue and filled it with a fresh cupful. He slapped his partner on the back and grinning, said, "Don't worry about it. It looks like he's not just targeting you this year."

Instead of looking relieved, Johnny looked aghast which made Roy laugh aloud. Again he said, "Don't worry about it, Junior." He tugged gently on his partner's arm and Johnny let himself be pulled back over to the table where the other men were digging into their breakfast. Mike had already taken care of the sugar.

When Chet entered the room, he glanced over the table and saw the food was fast disappearing. He looked over to where Johnny sat with his mouth full and his fork stabbing two more pieces from the serving platter. "Hey! Geezz, save some for me."

"We did." Marco said as he pointed to a plate with three pieces on it. Chet scowled. '_**Three, only three pieces of Marco's delightful toast**_? ' He looked to where Johnny was stuffing more food into his mouth and grinning at something Roy had whispered to him. '_**Bet Johnny boy there has already eaten that much**_.' He sighed as he pulled out a coffee cup for himself. '_**Oh well, I guess setting up the locker room will be worth it.'**_ He grinned as he thought about his planned tricks. Then he picked up the pot and poured. To his dismay, only a tablespoon or so dribbled out.

"You guys drank all the coffee too?" He whined.

"There woulda've been enough but somebody doctored the sugar and Roy had to get a second cup." Mike said, his blue eyes twinkling. "You'll just have to make some more."

"Too bad, too." Roy said as he sat back and sipped his cup. "Johnny made it this morning."

Chet muttered angrily under his breath. There was one thing they could all agree on, for a kid, Gage knew how to make good coffee and he'd missed it. He yanked his chair back and plopped down, grabbing the syrup bottle and poured it over his toast. He cut off a big bite and stuffed his mouth. It was cold already, but it was still Marco's cinnamon toast so he ate.

Around him, his shiftmates finished their meal and their coffee. When the pot blerped its readiness, Mike stood and poured himself a cup. "Coffee anyone?" He asked as he held up the pot. Everyone at the table raised their cups and Chet cried out in protest. Immediately they all laughed.

"Gotcha!" Johnny giggled.

Chet glowered at him.

Soon the kitchen was cleaned and the men sat around talking about what they were going to do during their day off while waiting for their replacements to arrive. Johnny had made another pot and it was just finishing when the two B shift paramedics came in.

"I smell coffee!" Terry Moore exclaimed as he made a bee-line for the pot. Tom Dwyer looked around. "Who made the coffee?" He eyed Chet who glared back at him.

"Johnny did." Roy supplied. Tom turned, grabbed a cup and attempted to elbow his partner out of the way. "Me first, I'm senior!"

"Only in age and mentality," Terry replied as he shoved the lighter man away. But then, chuckling, he grabbed his partner's cup and filled it. They took their cups and sat beside their station mates. Quickly, Johnny and Roy gave them a briefing on their shift and the condition of the squad and supplies. "We were run ragged yesterday, just like C shift was but we didn't have anything last night so supplies should be pretty good. We restocked most of it between runs." Roy told them.

With a nod and well wishes, the two A shift paramedics left the squad and the duties to the B shift. As they entered the locker room, Roy asked Johnny, "So Junior, whatcha doing today?"

Johnny shrugged, "dunno. There's not enough time to really go anywhere." He pulled open his locker and tried to dunk when he heard a sproouuuungggg. He yelped as the cold water drenched him.

He sighed heavily as Roy patted his wet shoulder. "Well, at least you were gonna change anyway."

Johnny didn't answer, he just began getting undressed.

"geeezz Gage, don't you know you're supposed to undress first then shower?" Chet guffed as he came into the room.

Both paramedics ignored him.

"Why'd ya ask?" Johnny turned to his friend as he toweled his wet hair.

"Well, the kids are gonna carve their pumpkins tonight and Jo thought you'd like to come over for supper. She's making potato soup and promised to make roasted pumpkin seeds after the jack-o-lanterns are carved." Roy finished dressing and looked up to see Johnny's face alight with a grin.

"Really? Jo's making potato soup? What time?"

Roy chuckled, "She said to make sure you get there about 3:30. Oh and junior, wear clothes you can get messy in."

"Boy she's got you pegged Gage. Messy's what he does best." Chet laughed but still the paramedics ignored him. Mike and Marco exchanged glances and Marco made a mark on an invisible board while Mike shook his head in silent laughter.

"Awwright! Good deal! Jo's potato soup and freshly roasted pumpkin seeds. Tell her I'll be there!" Johnny nodded happily and much to Roy's amusement and Chet's disgust, Johnny completed his changing while whistling merrily.


	3. Chapter 3

The Amendment

Chet spent the one-day break making sure he had everything ready for the next shift and the coming big weekend. He did amend some of his plans though after Cap's last lecture. With a sigh, he placed the chili powder he was gonna use on Johnny's food and the hot sauce for Johnny's beloved milk back into the cabinets.

Like usual, the day off passed swiftly and soon they were back on duty. Since this shift was in the middle of the workweek, most of their calls were fairly routine; a couple trash fires-one from burning leaves- a couple of car wrecks, one serious enough that Johnny and Roy's skills were exercised to the max and a few other various items. It wasn't really that stressful, for a Wednesday shift that is, but it was busy enough that by supper the men were tired.

Later, darkness and silence finally settled in the dorm—well, somewhat. There were still noises, someone snored, another—probably Johnny- tossed in his bunk voicing an occasional breathy moan- someone scratched, sighed then grumbled incoherently. Chet floated in that comfortable plain where you were not really asleep but not really awake. He smiled as he reviewed the pranks he'd pulled today. He'd gotten each member of the shift at least once, well except for Cap. After all, he wasn't suicidal! And the best, by far the best, had been his favorite pigeon. Johnny had walked into each one as if they'd rehearsed them. He chuckled as he recalled how he'd best gotten the tired paramedic earlier that evening.

All though he'd gotten Johnny with a water bomb at the shift's start, then with another after lunch, and three more pranks that afternoon, the piece-de-resistance had been the evening. It had started with the call right after supper- child trapped. Each firefighter felt their pulse quicken, their stomachs clench a little at the call. None of them liked calls where children were harmed and a 'child trapped' could be anything from a kid up a tree to a toddler stuck in a wall or in an appliance. Because of that, there wasn't much talking on the engine or in the squad as the men raced to aid.

"There, Roy. By the corner." Johnny concluded his directing of the squad. Roy nodded in acknowledgement as he pulled the squad up to where a group of people stood on the sidewalk. They got out, hearing the breaks of the engine as it pulled up behind them.

"What seems to be the problem?" Roy called out as he and Johnny stood near the side of the squad, wondering what equipment they would need. Cap jogged up next to them just as an older teen approached. His hands rested on the shoulders of a sobbing boy of about 7. "Tony killed my brother!" The younger boy pointed at another kid, who looked about 10 and very guilty. "He threw Mickey's new wallet into the sewer and Mickey went after it."

Johnny immediately threw himself on the ground, his head in the storm drain. "Mickey? Just stay still, ok? We're here to help get you out but I need you to stay still awright? Mickey?" He pulled his head out, shaking it and saying, "Cap, I can see him. He's at the bottom, there's some water but mostly just debris. He's not moving and his arm is twisted underneath him." He looked up at Cap, his face a mask, but his eyes bright with worry, "Cap?"

Cap nodded, "Gear up."

Johnny was instantly back on his feet and running toward the squad. Before long, he was heading back over, his safety belt around his waist. He pulled off his badge and his pins handing them to Marco while Roy worked with the coils of rope. Soon, the slender paramedic had wormed his way into the storm drain and was slowly lowering himself downward. Mike stayed there, monitoring where Johnny's line tied to his beloved engine. Roy monitored Johnny's progress, the HT in one hand to let Cap and the others know what was happening, and the receiver to the biophone in the other. The other men had headed to the other side of the street and were busy trying to pull the manhole cover off.

Johnny's feet finally touched solid surface again and he slipped free of the rope, kneeling instantly by the little boy. The child before him was an exact copy of the crying boy being comforted above by their older brother.

"Mickey? Hi! My name is Johnny and I'm a fireman. I've come to help you." Johnny soothingly told the barely alert child. He ran practiced hands around the boy's head, neck and down his back. He found a lump on the side of the child's head and the child pulled slightly away from the paramedic's probing fingers when Johnny pushed on his ribs and hip. He patted the child and smiled at the frightened hazel eyes. "We're gonna get you out of here, ok? You just relax and we'll have you out soon."

He stood and looked upward. "Hey Roy?"

Roy's face soon showed in the entrance. Johnny managed a grin, then reported, "He's semi conscious. He's got a nasty lump over his left ear, no sign of depression and no external bleeding. No fluid in the ears or nose. His pupils are reactive but a little sluggish. No evidence of neck or spinal injuries but I think we should board him anyway. He shows some pain on palpitation of his left ribs but no crepitus. His abdomen is soft and unremarkable. He also has pain on palpitation of his left hip but no deformity and he has movement of the leg in minimal pain. His left arm is broken, humorous, just about three inches down from the joint I'd say. It's a close fracture. I think he's broken the pinky finger of his left hand as well. Pulse is 90. Respirations are 16 and clear. BP is 96/66. His skin's cool."

Roy nodded and made his report to Rampart.

"51, is there a parent or other responsible adult on scene?" Brackett asked, concerned that this little one might be showing some signs of shock and wanted to order an IV. Roy looked around and spotted the teen and other boy. "Is your mom or dad around?"

The teen bit his lip and his hands tightened on his brother. "My Dad's gone; he's a trucker and he does long hauls. My Mom's still at work. She should be home anytime though. I'm supposed to watch Mickey and Ricky from school time until she gets home."

Roy nodded then smiled at the other boy to try to relieve the worry he saw in the green eyes. "How old are you, son?"

The boy drew himself up proudly, "My name's Nate and I just turned 15, sir."

"No parent on scene at this time, Rampart. Although the older brother expects the mother at any time." Roy told the doctor. He heard Brackett's sigh.

"51, until the mother shows and gives permission, no IV. Immobilize him as a precaution, splint the arm and hand and keep a close eye on those vitals. If the mother gives approval, start an IV ringers lactate, update vitals every 5 minutes and transport as soon as possible." The doctor ordered.

Roy acknowledged and repeated the information before bending back over the drain and telling Johnny what Rampart had ordered. Before long, the others had gotten a stokes down through the manhole and over to Johnny.

Johnny completed the required treatment, secured his patient with Marco's help and then took the boy back over to the manhole for the others to pull him out. By the time Johnny crawled back up, Roy had the boy on a gurney and with the consent of the worried woman clutching Mickey's right hand, was starting an IV.

Johnny came over to them, smiling broadly. "Hey Mickey! I have something for you." Hazel eyes opened and looked over at the paramedic. Slowly the boy grinned at his rescuer then the grin became even wider as he saw what Johnny held out to him. "My wallet! You found it! Thanks!"

Johnny shrugged, "All part of the services rendered. How 'bout I give it to your mother for safekeeping for now." The boy nodded and the grateful woman took it from Johnny. "Thank you so much for helping him."

Again Johnny grinned, "Like I said, all part of the service." Roy too, smiled at his partner as he climbed into the ambulance. When Johnny handed Roy the equipment, Roy wrinkled his nose at his debris-decorated partner. "Better pull a blanket to put on the seat before you drive in, Junior."

Johnny looked down at himself, and ineffectively brushed at the mess of rotted debris covering his chest and legs. "Oh. Yeah. You're right." He shut the doors, slapped them twice and watched the ambulance take off. Then he grabbed the remaining equipment and headed back to the squad.

"Hey guys, looky there! It's The Thing That Crawled From The Sewers!"

Johnny made a face as Chet laughed heartily. The paramedic ignored the firefighter as he stowed the gear but Chet had stepped up right behind the paramedic. He exaggerated sniffing then held his nose. "Whew! You stink, Gage. I'm sure glad you aren't riding back with us, we'd have to stick you on the back of the engine."

Johnny grabbed a blanket pack from its shelf and ripped it open as he growled, "Shut up, Chet."

Chet laughed and inhaled to raze his pigeon more but was cut off when Cap barked, "Kelly!"

Chet turned, trying to look innocent as he quipped, "Yeah Cap." Cap just pointed toward the engine and, sighing heavily, Chet headed that way. Cap rolled his eyes at his youngest paramedic who tossed him a grateful look as he placed the blanket over the squad's seat. Then Johnny grabbed a handful of towels and began wiping as much of the mess off himself as he could. Once he had done what he could, he climbed into the squad and set off for Rampart.

Johnny was just walking toward where Roy was standing next to Dixie when the HT in his hand beeped, "Squad 51 what's your status?"

Johnny caught Roy's eye as he lifted it to his mouth and replied, "Squad 51 available at Rampart."

"10-4 Squad 51, stand by for response." The tones sounded and sounded,

"Squad 51, Engine 51, Engine 48, Station 10. Structure fire. Westley Apartments. Police are on scene. Corner of Wesley and Norwick. Time out 19:35."

Roy trotted toward Johnny as Johnny acknowledged the call. Dixie turned to the nurse beside her and began giving orders. "Structure fire at an apartment complex, get the rooms ready, we'll probably have multiple cases."

Since Johnny still had the keys, he climbed into the driver's seat as Roy flipped on the reds. As soon as Johnny cleared the hospital's overhang, he flipped on the siren as well. Roy tightened his helmet and set about watching traffic. He knew he didn't need to direct Johnny since the dark haired medic knew their response area very well. Before long, they could see a faint glow and the lights of other fire department equipment. A white helmeted figure waved the squad over and Johnny rolled down his window.

"We've got most of the effected building evacuated but I still want a sweep to make sure. Park it there and go in."

"Right Chief." Johnny pulled the squad over where he was told then he and his partner jumped out, suited up and with one last look at each other, the two headed toward the building. Once inside, Johnny motioned he was headed upstairs, flicking up three fingers and Roy nodded then began checking apartments on the main floor. The apartments were divided into individual three floored buildings, six apartments on each floor.

"Fire department!" Roy yelled as he opened the door. A quick sweep revealed the apartment empty, the TV still blaring in the living room. He closed the door, marked it and went to the next. Before long, he was finished and heading up to the second floor. The fire had started on the third floor and the smoke was heavily pouring down the stairwell. Briefly, Roy hoped Johnny was alright as he began his sweep of the second floor. When he came out of one of the back apartments he saw another firefighter come out of another apartment across from him. He waved and the two hurried toward each other. The sixth sense they had developed over the last nearly three years as partners had told each who the other was. Roy pointed down and shook his head, Johnny pointed up and shook his head, then added, "Real hot up there. Let's hurry."

Roy nodded and pointed to the last apartment on the right side, Johnny nodded and pointed to the last on the left. Both firefighters disappeared into the apartments to finish their sweeps. Roy came out, closed the door and marked it with chalk. He looked around. The smoke was now very heavy on this floor and he could see flames at the end of the hall. He looked back at the other apartment, willing his partner to appear.

As if he'd done just that, Johnny came through the door, shook his head at his partner, closed the door and marked it. Both paramedics breathed a sigh of relief that all the people had made it out. Together they hurried to the stairs and their way out of the building.

Johnny had just put his right foot on the second step and was putting his left on the third step, shifting his weight from the ball of his right foot to his left when an explosion shook the building. He swayed, as did Roy. Roy grabbed the handrail next to him but Johnny's grab for the opposite rail missed and, thrown off balance, Johnny fell. Roy grabbed for his partner but his hand closed on empty air. Roy could only watch helpless as his friend tumbled down the stairs, landing at the bottom in a jumble of arms and legs—and didn't move.

Even as he raced down the stairs, Roy pulled the HT from his pocket, shouting into it, "HT 51 to Engine 51. Cap! Johnny's down! We're at the base of the stairs just inside the building."

Cap felt his heart lurch at the words every captain hated but his voice remained calm as he replied, "10-4 HT 51. Help's on the way." He keyed his HT again. "Engine 51 to Battalion 10. Chief, I've got a paramedic down just inside the building. I'm going in. Could use a little backup."

"10-4 51." Before any more could be said another voice broke in. "Battalion 10, Engine 51, this is Engine 48. I'm sending manpower for 51's downed man."

"10-4 48" Battalion acknowledged.

Cap turned, and grabbed a stokes from the back of the squad. As he pulled it, another set of hands grabbed it also. Cap turned and smiled at Bruce Shaffer, captain of A-shift at 48's. "Here Hank. Miller and Henderson will back you up with a hose as needed."

He looked over at Mike, who had stretched himself as much as possible in order to keep an eye on his gauges as well as see what his captain was doing.

Shaffer grinned, "Son, if you'll trust this ole engineer to take over your engine, you can accompany your captain."

Mike gave a brief nod and grabbed the other end of the stokes. He spoke just two words. "Cap. Johnny?"

At his captain's nod, he steeled himself and the four men entered the blazing building.

Roy shoved the HT back into his pocket with one hand, the other reaching for a pulse in his friend's twisted body. Just as he did, Johnny groaned loudly and shifted, un-torquing his torso and straightening his legs. Roy immediately moved to push lightly on his partner's chest while reseating his facemask as he cautioned, "Johnny don't move. You don't want to make things worse."

Johnny blinked up at him and frowned, "I'm lying in an aching heap at the bottom of a stairway in a burning building and you're worried about worse?!?"

Roy gave a grin of relief at his partner's reply, "Well, you're coherent. That's a relief at least. What hurts?"

Johnny scowled and moved again to sit up. "I'm fine, Roy. A little bruised and battered maybe but nothing's broke and believe me, I feel everything."

Roy had by now grabbed a wrist and was counting. Johnny pulled his hand back, then suddenly instead used the resistance to pull himself upward.

"Johnny!"

"Roy!" Johnny mimicked, then pulled his legs under him in preparation to stand. "I'm fine. Tell you what, let's both get out of here THEN I'll let you play paramedic."

"Tell YOU what, WE get you out of here and then Roy will check you out," came a new deeper voice. Johnny blinked wide brown eyes up at his captain's stern gaze. Without another word, Cap, Mike and Roy lifted the slighter man's body and plopped him swiftly albeit carefully into the stokes while the two with a hose wet down the area, keeping the encroaching flames at bay.

Then all five walking men—and their carried buddy—left the building. The two hosemen went back into the area to continue their battle while others began attacking that area of the fire as well. Cap and Mike carried the stokes while Roy ran ahead and began setting up a triage area. Gently, they put the stokes down into the prepared area. Mike placed a hand on Johnny's shoulder, grinning broadly at the soot-covered figure. His mask now dangling from his neck, Johnny was sitting up, having refused to lie back, and since he still had on his pack, they'd let him. The paramedic had his arms crossed over his chest, his face set in a scowl.

From where they worked a hose, Chet looked over and saw the activity by the squad. Something about Johnny's posture struck him funny and he nudged Marco while laughing, "I wonder what's got Chief Blackface all upset."

Marco glanced over but could tell not only by Johnny's posture it wasn't serious but by the grin on Roy's face. He frowned at Chet's racial reference and returned his attention back to the fire.

As soon as the stokes hit the ground, Johnny tried to climb out of it, but both Mike's and Cap's hands on his shoulders prevent him. Neither man missed the wince he tried to cover either. "Let's get your pack off now, John." Cap told him. Knowing better than to argue with his captain, Johnny acquiesced and Mike carefully loosened the straps then pulled the pack off. Again Johnny failed to hide his winces. So instead, he frowned more and growled, "Careful! Don't pull my arms off as well, damn it!"

Cap frowned at him and he instantly looked contrite. He didn't protest as Mike next removed his turnout coat. "Hey Roy?"

Roy turned from where he was setting up the biophone and looked where Mike pointed. Blood ran down Johnny's arm. Roy grabbed a stack of 4x4s, wet them and begin to carefully clean the area even as he asked, "Johnny?"

Johnny shook his head as he watched, "Doesn't hurt. Now that you're cleaning it, it stings alittle I guess."

Cap snorted at that, muttering under his breath, "Only you'd say a cut like that 'stings alittle'"

Sure enough, Roy's cleaning revealed a deep 4 inch laceration just above Johnny's elbow. Roy placed more pads over the area and with Cap's help wrapped it, keeping pressure on it. Then he began searching his friend's body for other injuries. He found plenty of reddened areas already beginning to darken into bruises but no more bleeding. His probing revealed sore joints in Johnny's left knee and elbow as well as some soreness over his ribs but no crepitus. As the air hissed out from the BP cuff, Roy sat back and looked his friend over.

Cap looked from his junior paramedic to his senior paramedic. "Roy?"

Roy shook his head, "His BP's a little up but well within normal range, pulse, respirations are good, no sign of injury other than that cut. He's bruised and battered like he said but I guess he's gonna be fine, Cap."

Cap clapped the grinning younger paramedic on the shoulder, getting another faint wince. "Well, then I have a fire to fight." With that, he left his paramedics. Roy reached for the biophone and Johnny intercepted his hand. "Don't Roy. I'm fine." He continued as Roy frowned and opened his mouth, "I'll have someone look me over when we go in and I'll tell you if anything else comes up. I promise." He laid his splayed hand on his chest.

Roy scrutinized his friend's face, a bruise was darkening on the edge of his cheek and down toward his jaw, probably from his facemask. "Johnny, the way you fell down those steps . . ."

Johnny shrugged, "I just curled up and rolled, Roy. I'm fine, really." His gaze caught on something else and before Roy could stop him, in one smooth move, he yanked his turnout coat back on, jumped up and ran off.

Roy pivoted where he sat and saw Johnny run up to where a firefighter was carrying another toward them. Roy stood to assist as Johnny helped the man ease his burden off his shoulders. "What happened?"

"Ceiling fell. Nicholas was under it. I think it got him in the head." The other firefighter gasped through coughing. "Broke his regulator. Used mine." Johnny pushed on the man's shoulders, forcing the swaying man to sit on the yellow blanket. He quickly put a mask over the man's face, receiving a grateful look, then set up another mask and placed it over the unconscious man's face as well. While he was doing that, Roy had been pulling off the man's pack and together the two eased him back. Johnny's hands began his assessment even as Roy reached for a pulse and respiration count on the other man.

Busy with their patients, neither paramedic noticed when they were joined by 10's paramedics. The first two men were packaged into an ambulance, Roy escorting them in. Although Roy would have loved sending in Johnny, by that time he was on the biophone reporting on a case of heat exhaustion.

And so the rest of the fire went, one case of heat exhaustion, two with slight smoke inhalation, two more from slight burns when falling debris got down the back of one firefighter's turnout coat and another when one man had a flare up next to him. All in all, seven firefighter injured at the fire were seen at Rampart—not including Johnny.

Brackett looked up from where he stood charting at Dixie's desk when familiar voices echoed down the hall. "But Roy! I said I was fine!"

"You also promised you'd get checked out to make sure."

"I will, I will."

Brackett looked up at Dixie who rolled her eyes. "Looks like we have one more."

Dixie nodded and pointed, "Room 2 is clean." The voice were coming closer.

"When? You were trying to head back to the station, junior. Did you think I forgot?"

Pause. "Weellll, I was kinda hoping…"

"Johnny, you fell down an entire flight of stairs. If you think I was gonna forgot that anytime soon…."

At that, the two hospital personal looked at each other in alarm. "Fell down the stairs?" Dixie repeated.

"Well, he's walking," Brackett tried to assure the nurse, or maybe it was himself.

"He'd walk even if his legs were broken." He heard the nurse mutter as both headed toward the voices who were no longer getting closer.

"Johnny, you need to see the doctor. That cut will need to be cleaned, and probably needs a few stitches as well. Now I let you stay because you seemed to be ok like you said and we were busy." Now Roy's voice got harder. "But I can see you're pale and I saw that stumble when you got out of the squad."

"Well, of course I stumbled, I'm tired Roy. It's been a busy day and I just got done fighting a 3 hour. . .Uhhh, Hi, Dix! Doc!" Johnny straightened from the wall he had been leaning against and gave the two a big grin. Roy rolled his eyes as he reached out and grabbed Johnny's shoulders. With a swift tug, he purposely knocked his partner off balance then caught him with the wheelchair he had ready.

Johnny's eyes widened as he felt himself fall then he gave out a grunt as he landed in the chair. He turned around and glared at his now innocent looking partner. Dix turned her face slightly with a cough to cover her laughter and Brackett's face twitched madly. He paused in front of his paramedic team and crossed his arms, trying to look imposing.

Johnny blinked innocently up at him and now Roy had to "cough" "Did I just hear that one of my paramedics had an injury they weren't going to report?" Brackett growled. Johnny blinked rapidly, "Uhhh, no, Doc. I mean .... It's not, I'm not… injured, I mean, it's not a bad injury." He stuttered. Bracket continued to scowl and Johnny tried again, "I mean, it's an injury but it's not serious. And I. . .I was gonna report it . . really."

"You were. When?"

Johnny blinked and looked from his partner to the nurse to the doctor. "Ummm, when . . . when the ER wasn't so busy, with the fire and all."

"Well, Johnny, you're in luck. It so happens we aren't busy right now." Dixie said with a cat-eating-canary smile. Johnny's shoulders slumped as he sighed, knowing he was beat. He remained that way as the little party moved into the treatment room. Roy solicitously reached under his partner's arm to help lift him from the chair, saying, "Come on, Junior, up on the table so the good doctor can look you over."

Johnny glared at him as he pulled away. "I can do it myself, Roy." He snapped.

Roy grinned at the doctor, "He's so much more compliant when he's unconscious when I bring him in."

Johnny's eyes widened in hurt as even Dixie said, "Roy!" but then she hid a smile, knowing it was true and knowing that the injuries couldn't be too bad if Roy was teasing his partner this way.

Johnny climbed up onto the exam table, casting one last hurt look at his friend before heaving a heavy sigh. Brackett, his mouth twitching again, stepped up to him, frowned and then stepped back again. "Johnny! You reek! Where have you been other than a fire?"

The smoke smell was easily detectable to the doctor who had treated so many firemen that evening but that other . . .stench . . . Johnny's pale face now colored with his embarrassment. "I . . .uhhh had a rescue in the sewer. Right before the fire. Didn't have a chance to change."

Dixie immediately turned to the nurse just coming in and ordered, "Get a set of scrubs please." Then she filled a basin of warm water and got a washcloth while Roy helped Johnny shuck off his sweat- soaked-sewer- soaked-smoky uniform. Before Johnny could lie back on the exam table, Brackett, frowning, stopped him. He looked closely at his back as he asked Roy, "What happened to him?"

"We had just completed a sweep and were headed down the stairs when there was an explosion. I was able to grab hold of the rail and Johnny wasn't."

Brackett nodded, "Did you see this?"

Roy nodded, knowing his partner's body was covered in bruises. "I suspect it's from his tank." He shot the dark haired man a look as he added, "He . . . winced quite a bit when we took it off." He pointed to Johnny's bandaged left arm where blood was beginning to seep through. "He's got a deep 4 inch lac there and his left knee is swollen. He's tender over the ribs on the right side but no movement and his vitals were good."

"Get another set, Roy." He told the paramedic as he laid Johnny back and begin inspecting each of the areas Roy had mentioned.

"Did he lose consciousness at all?"

Roy shrugged, "I . . wasn't . .. "

"I'm right here and I AM conscious." Johnny grumbled. Brackett flashed a brief grin. "Alright Johnny. Did you?"

Johnny frowned, "No, I don't think I did. I was stunned at first. I still felt like I was moving even after I stopped, you know. Then I was just still for a while, trying to see if everything was still attached."

As Brackett listened, he ran his fingers though the shaggy dark hair, trying to feel any lumps or deformities. "Well, I don't feel anything."

Johnny grinned up at him, "I had my helmet on." Brackett couldn't help an answering grin. He patted the paramedic's arm. "Good hose jockey." Then he took out his penlight and checked Johnny's eyes. "Perrl. I'd say for once, you didn't strike your head, Johnny." He teased. Johnny responded by rolling said eyes.

Brackett then moved to check his neck and across his ribs. He found the tenderness Roy had described. "And pain on breathing?" Johnny shook his head. Brackett took out a stethoscope and gave a quick listen.

Dixie moved up to wash the soot from Johnny's face while Brackett examined his long limbs. "I'll want x-rays of that knee and elbow but I think you're right, he just twisted it."

"He was up on it fine most of the rest of the fire. He was starting to limp a little toward the end." Roy filled in after he relayed the set of vitals he'd just taken.

"Kel." Brackett looked over at Dix then down at his patient. Frowning, he palpitated the bruised area revealed under the soot. Johnny winced.

"Sorry. I don't think anything is broken but I'll want an x-ray, just to make sure." Brackett told him. Dixie had turned and set up a suture tray then moved to the phone. "Kel, you want it down here or will you send him up?"

"I think I'll send him up after I get this arm taken care of." Brackett murmured as he examined the cut. He looked up, "Dix get me some lidocaine. I want to clean this out good before I stitch it."

After a while, Johnny was stitched and dressed in scrubs and back in the wheelchair. Roy pushed his again grumbling friend on up to x-ray. As they traveled back down, Johnny grumbled more. "X-rays again. I swear all the x-ray techs here know my first name. They probably use my x-rays to test the new ones. If I get many more of these x-rays, Roy, I'm gonna start glowing."

Roy chuckled, shaking his head over his friend as he pushed him back into the empty room. Johnny climbed back up onto the table and with a weary sigh, laid down. "Man, Roy. I'm beat."

"Yeah," his partner agreed as he sat in the empty wheelchair.

Dixie took the x-rays just sent down and stepped into the lounge where she knew Brackett had gone searching for coffee. "Kel," She said as she held up the x-rays.

Brackett looked up, saw what she had, nodded and left with her. Dixie pushed open the door and suddenly stopped. Brackett bumped into her and frowned, "Dix, what . . .?" Then he saw the endearing smile on her face and the relaxed look to her posture. He gently pushed the door open wider and looked inside.

On the exam table, Johnny had sprawled out, his bandaged arm up over his eyes, his mouth slightly open, his breaths deep with sleep. In the wheelchair, Roy had placed his feet up on the braces, his head thrown back, mouth open and soft snores coming with his deep even breaths. The two caregivers watched the two young firefighters for a few moments. "They must be exhausted." Brackett commented softly.

The nurse nodded, "They've been run ragged today," She added as she stepped forward. Brackett moved over to the x-ray light and slid the films up on it. Dixie moved over to the table, placing a hand on Roy's arm as she passed and placed a gentle hand on Johnny's leg. "Roy, Johnny." She said. Johnny jerked slightly and dark brown eyes opened to blink sleepily at her. In the wheel chair, Roy inhaled deeper, gave a slight cough and sat up, rubbing his tired eyes with his hand.

"Well, your x-rays all look good, Johnny, even that knee. I'm gonna wrap it but I think a good hot shower and some rest is all you really need. Clean those abrasions well and you know to watch for signs of infection. Aspirin for the pain and to handle the swelling."

Johnny sat carefully up, trying and failing to suppress a groan. Now that he'd laid still, his sore body was protesting the abuse it had received. "Uhhh, Doc? Can Roy wrap it for me? I'll just hafta unwrap it back at the station then wrap it again."

"Johnny, you could shower here," Dixie offered. Johnny considered her proposal then shook his head. "Thanks but no. I'll wanna crawl into my rack after I wash up."

Brackett sighed, "Alright Johnny. Hopefully that's all you'll need to get through the rest of the shift. When's your next shift."

Johnny made a face, "Saturday."

Brackett nodded, "So you have two days off. I'd say you stay off the knee as much as possible and you should be fine for your next shift." He frowned as the paramedics exchanged a look and Johnny made another face. "Yeah, rest up for that shift. I'll need it."

Both the caregivers exchanged looks of confusion so Roy explained, "The Phantom has been hitting the station pretty hard this string already so we all figured he's just gearing up for Saturday."

"Yeah, with all the other calls we'll probably have that day…" Johnny shook his head as he sat up, "I'm not looking forward to this weekend."

Roy nodded and saw the other two still looked puzzled. Brackett crossed his arms and leaned against the cabinet, "Well, I will agree that Saturdays are usually busier than the weekdays but still . . ."

"Doc." Johnny's soft voice came where the young paramedic hung his head. They looked at him as he raised his head, his face somber, his eyes serious. "Saturday's Halloween."

Dixie's mouth made a "ah" as she nodded her understanding and Brackett frowned, knowing quite well what the weekend now could hold for the fire department, not to mention the paramedics and the hospital. "I see. Well, rest up as much as you can. And if you have any more trouble, be sure and come in."

Johnny got carefully off the table, grabbed the bundle of his dirty uniform while Dixie packaged some supplies and handed them to Roy. With a final weary wave, the two paramedics left.

Brackett looked at Dix and shook his head, "Halloween? Already?" Dix nodded. Brackett shook his head again, "I think I'd better rest up myself."

When the squad pulled into the bay, the engine was back also. Johnny pulled himself from the squad and looked at his equally weary partner. "Roy? If the guys are already done, why don't you go ahead and shower first. I think I need to eat something then take some aspirin."

Roy nodded as he headed toward the showers and his partner for the kitchen. As Roy entered the locker area he turned back and said, "I'll make sure and save you some hot water, Junior."

Johnny gave a faint wave as he disappeared into the kitchen. Chet appeared next to Roy. "You gonna shower now?" Roy nodded. "Yeah, Johnny said he'd take his after he ate."

Chet got a gleam in his eyes as Roy pulled open his locker and began getting out the things he needed. "Ah, hold on a moment Roy, I left my shampoo in the shower." Chet ducked into the shower and returned with something in his hand a moment later. "All yours." He placed whatever it was into his locker and turned back to the paramedic.

"Hey. Gage's ok, right?"

Roy nodded, "He's a little banged up but he's fine."

Chet grinned big and stroked his mustache. "Good. Good."

Roy stared at the Irishman suspiciously for a few moments but his sluggish brain couldn't process any questions or a reason he should pursue this so he shrugged and headed toward the shower. Under the warm water, he felt the muscles in his body relax and he sighed. Then he shook himself, remembering his promise to his young partner and how much the injured man would need the comfort the warm water would give as well. He quickly cleaned his body and reluctantly shut the spray off. Once he was dressed, he grabbed the bag from the squad and headed toward the kitchen.

As he approached, he could hear Chet again after his prey. "You still stink, Gage. What'da do? Save some of it to roll in later?"

"Chet, I'm tired, I hurt all over and I've got a headache. Just . . .just leave me alone." Johnny's tired response exhibited just how badly the younger man felt if he was willing to tell them. Roy hurried into the kitchen. Johnny looked slowly up from where he sat hunched over the table, an empty glass with milk residue in his hand and the smell of peanut butter toast in the air.

Roy took out the pill packet and shook out two into his hand. "Here junior." As Johnny took the pills from his partner, Mike grabbed the empty glass and quickly refilled it with milk and placed it again before the paramedic. Johnny looked up with a nod of thanks as he tossed the pills into his mouth and chased them down with the milk.

He then held his arm out to Roy who secured a plastic piece over the white bandage on his arm and sealed it with taped as well. Chet had ducked back into the locker area once more and now headed back into the kitchen as Johnny passed him on the way to his shower.

When he entered the kitchen, Roy was settling into a chair with a cup of coffee and two cookies.

Cap came in and poured himself a cup of coffee before joining his paramedic at the table. "How is he?" He jerked his head toward the locker area.

Roy sighed, "Brackett released him for duty but he's tired and sore."

Cap nodded, "Yeah, I figured. I saw all the scrapes and bruises."

Roy nodded, "You should see him now, there are even more. The cut took eight stitches to close. Brackett wants his knee wrapped."

Cap looked concerned, "Is he ok to finish the shift?"

Roy nodded, "Brackett wouldn't've released him if he didn't think so."

Cap sipped his coffee then asked the question on each of their minds. "What happened?"

Roy rubbed at his face, trying to erase the image in his head. "We had finished the sweep and were just starting down the stairs when there was that explosion. It rocked both of us. I think Johnny was off balance just as it hit. I grabbed the rail and saw Johnny grab for it also but he missed. I grabbed at him but . . ." He sighed, "He fell down the stairs, Cap. All the way down. When he hit bottom and just laid there all twisted, I . . .I thought . . ." He couldn't finish but each man understood.

"The whole flight?" Marco asked, frowning.

Roy nodded.

"No wonder he's bruised up like that." Mike murmured.

Cap shook his head, "It's a wonder he didn't break something."

They all nodded.

Chet looked thoughtful. So, Johnny had gotten hurt. '_**Geeze, Gage, falling down a flight of stairs? We've seen people killed from that!'**_ Then he mentally shrugged, _**'Figures you'd come out of that fine. What would kill others you walk away from, it's the weird stuff that gets you, like that virus last year.'**_ Then he grinned, well, his pigeon was gonna be fine and his need for the shower had just perfectly set him up for the Phantom's latest attack.

Roy finished his coffee and grabbed up the bag on the table, saying, "Well, I'd better get into the locker room. Johnny will be done and I need to recheck those stitches and wrap his knee."

Chet waited until Roy had left and the other three men were quietly discussing their last call, then he snuck off. He pushed open the locker room door just enough to see his target, now wrapped in a towel and walking toward Roy who sat on the bench, waiting, the supplies laid out in front of him.

Johnny was trying to dry his hair with another towel, frowning as instead of water as he expected, his hair felt stiff. He pulled the towel away, frowning first then his eyebrows rose as the towel stuck to him.

Roy watched the confused look cover his friend's face. "Johnny? What's wrong?"

"I dunno." Johnny murmured. He attempted to drop the towel but it stuck to his hand. His eyes widened as he shook it, hard. "I . . I seem to be . . . sticky."

Roy stood and reached out, seeing the spiked stiff hair, touching his friend's skin. "You're right, you're sticky." He could feel the cloyiness of Johnny's skin. Johnny was now looking at his hand, trying to separate his fingers which didn't want to come apart. He looked up, just a little fear in his eyes, "Roy? It . . . it's startin' to really sting."

Roy frowned as he heard a faint snicker from behind the door. In a flash, he yanked it open, revealing Chet standing there.

"Chet!" Johnny yelled, "Whaddya do to me now?!"

Chet tried to look innocent and reply but the snickers kept sneaking out, "Me? I didn't do anything. Roy was the last to shower." He reached out and touched the gummy paramedic and shook his head, "Geez, Gage, I always knew you were tacky but this . .."

"What's going on?" Cap's voice sobered Chet as he entered the room followed by the others. He paused as he caught the sight of his nearly naked paramedic—and the vivid bruises and abrasions on his body.

"Chet's what's happened! Cap! I've got . . . something . . . all over me!" Johnny glared at the now laughing Irishman. Cap stepped forward, taking in the stiff, spiked hair, and the almost glistening look to the man's skin. He touched the arm the paramedic held out, feeling the tackiness of his skin. He turned around and narrowed his eyes at Chet, "Chet. What did you do?"

Chet blinked innocently, "Me? I wasn't even in here! I was out there with you guys." He shrugged, "Must have been the Phantom."

"Chet, we need to know what you did to Gage!" Cap bellowed, his patience at an end.

"Sugar candy." Came a voice. They all turned to look at Mike who held a wet paper towel and the showerhead in his hand. He held it out to them as he repeated, "Sugar Candy. In the shower head. The hot water would've melted it and . . ."

"And I got coated," Johnny finished, his shoulders slumped. "Great."

"Well, the good thing is all you have to do would be to wash it off." Roy tried to comfort his 'sweet' partner. Johnny looked at him, "Will it come off with just cold water? The hot was running out as I finished."

Without waiting for an answer, the weary paramedic turned and made his way back to the shower. They each could see the goose bumps covering the paramedic and see the tiny shivers as he chilled as well as the numerous bruises covering his exposed body. Mike had carefully cleaned out the showerhead and reattached it. Johnny didn't even try to shucked the towel off his body as he stepped back into the shower.

Cap sighed, "I'm gonna go make up some hot chocolate. He'll need to warm up once he gets out." He glared at Chet. "Kelly, if I could prove that was you . . ."

Mike followed his captain out after he, too, gave the other man a glare.

Marco stared at his friend, "That was cruel, Chet."

Chet smiled broadly, "Really, Marco. Cruel? All the Phantom did was 'sweeten up' his personality a bit." He laughed harder, "I think it's sorta 'sweet'." Now his laughter became so hard, he had tears. Marco looked at him in disgust and shook his head, "You saw all those bruises. He was hurting and needed a warm shower. You took that comfort away from him." He sighed heavily. "You may be my amigo but sometimes I don't understand why you have to be so . . so mean to Johnny."

Chet looked at his friend in surprise, "I wasn't mean. I mean, he isn't hurt, just sticky." He dissolved into laughter again. Marco shook his head, "None of the rest of us see it that way. And, if I were you, I'd leave before Johnny and Roy get back. I don't think they'll see any humor in it either." With that, Marco left.

This sobered Chet and he scowled back toward the showers, "DeSoto needs to loosen up over Gage. He mollycoddles the kid too much. It was just a harmless little prank, shhheeesshh." With that he left, heading out to see what was on the TV.

Once in the kitchen, the other men ignored him but Chet didn't even notice. He turned the channel to a movie and relaxed in the couch, Boot in his lap.

Soon Johnny and Roy trudged back into the kitchen, Johnny's hair was still wet but no longer spiked, his visible skin was red from the harsh scrubbing he'd had to do. Some of the abrasions had reopened and glistened with freshly clotting blood. His eyes were dull with fatigue and his shoulders shook with tiny shivers. He sat down and promptly collapsed over the table, his head buried in his arms.

Cap turned and handed a large cup of hot chocolate to his senior paramedic who in turn gently tapped his partner's shoulder. Johnny raised his head and Roy pushed the cup toward him. Johnny stared at it as if not certain what he should do. "Drink it, Junior. It'll help warm you up." Johnny took it and sipped. He looked up at his captain who was suddenly struck at how young he looked. "Thanks, Cap." He whispered and slouched back down, but he kept sipping at the cup until it was nearly empty. That time when he rested his head back on his arms, he didn't come back up.

Roy sighed then grabbed his partner's shoulders and pulled. "Come on Junior. Beddy-bye time."

Chet snickered again from his place on the couch but refrained from comment as four sets of eyes glared at him. After the two paramedics left, Cap cleaned up and turned to his men. "Light's out in ten." He looked over at Chet, his eyes hard. "No exceptions."

That had been now over two hours ago and Chet was still basking in the glow of a well pulled prank-fest. He counted the day very successful, especially since he'd managed to get everyone. '_**That last one on Gage was perfect' **_He chortled_**, 'I'll have months of ammunition over how 'sweet' he is now.**_' Chet sighed happily, still giving out faint chortles. '_**I'll set up the water trap first. No, no, I think I'll try and get Mike with the pepper in the coffee. He never expect another Phantom visit so soon—wonder how he'd react? Or maybe I should pull it on Roy?'**_

'_**Choose**_ . . .' a voice murmured. Chet frowned slightly and shifted in his bed. '_**Yeah, I have to get it all planned out. Maybe Marco. He is my best bud but still, no one is safe from the Phantom on Halloween**_." He smiled broader in his sleep as he thought of the special plans, the ones he'd reserved especially for one person only. '_**Just for you, my little pigeon, just for you.'**_ He thought. '_**This is going to be the best ever and all my station-mates will be involved.**_' he frowned then added, '_**Well, except Cap. Latrine duty is a given but no sense in getting suspended.'**_

"Very well. Your choice has been accepted." A voice said, waking Chet up a little.

"Huh? What?" he said, opening his eyes and looking around.

In the bunk next to him, Marco squinted his eyes. "What Chet?"

Chet blinked at him, "You said something."

Marco shook his head and rolled over. "You're hearing things again, Chet. Shut up and go back to sleep."

Chet looked around but there was nothing so he shrugged, and did as Marco suggested. As he drifted off, a smile covered his face as he dreamed about the coming shift.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Oiche Shamhna – Samhain (sa:wΙn)

Chet checked through the contents in the bag on his table one more time, '_**Hmmm, y fronts with the front sewn up. . . Who should the lucky recipient be? Gage has to change his clothes the most during a shift but he usually doesn't wear just plain tidy whities… Roy? He has to change more than us too. No, maybe Mike! Yeah! Mister uptight. But he hardly ever gets dirty enough working on the engine to hafta change.**_' He stroked his face, '_**If I got him with a water bomb or maybe the bucket over the door, then he'd have to change**_.' He placed the underwear into the bag. '_**Too good of a joke to waste, I'll just have to see who becomes available for it.'**_ He tossed in the pepper candy and realistic spider on a nylon string. '_**Marco's gonna love you**_!' the Irishman thought as he patted the beast, '_**I'm glad now I went with him to that cataleane or cataalinn or whatever that big party was for his cousin's girl**_' He shook his head, laughing. '_**Who knew homemade sangria could loosen so many tongues! The things your family told me about you, buddy**_!'

He shook his head as he recalled the story Marco's cousin Juan had told about how he'd locked some little foster boy the family had been caring for in an old woodshed. Marco had found out and had gone in to free the younger child, even though he knew there had been black widow spiders found in the shed and he was terribly afraid of any spider. Juan had laughed so hard he'd fallen off his chair as he told about how he had followed after his cousin.

"Mister always-do-right was so concerned over that 'desierto del basuro' he barreled right in. I heard him calling for the brat and I snuck up, slammed the door and bolted it on the outside!" He'd laughed more. "You should have heard the screams and hollering coming out of that shed! Marco was begging me…begging me! To open the door! 'Course he was pretending that he wanted to get help for that basuro they had letting live there. But I knew, I knew that he was really just freaking out because of all the spiders."

That story had stayed with Chet and when he'd found this rubber spider, he knew it was perfect. Whistling _Wild Irish Rover_, he packed up his stuff and headed off. He wanted to make sure he got there in plenty of time to set things up. The locker room was empty on his arrival, both the engine and the squad out on runs. "Perfect!"

He busied himself, first in Mike's locker where he placed the rigged briefs, then on to Marco's where he set the spider up to fall out when the door was opened, then on to Johnny's locker.

Once those were done, he headed into the kitchen and prepared the surprise for Roy in his helmet and replaced it. He set a water bomb up in the cabinets for whomever, giving a silent prayer it wouldn't be Cap. And when his said commander came in through the backdoor, Chet was opening bags of candy and dumping them on the table.

Cap took one look at his team member and his first thought was a sigh, '_**He's already here. That means whatever 'gifts' he has set up for us are already in place. Lovely.'**_ Outloud he said, "You don't have to set up the candy yet, Chet. Trick or treat doesn't start until 6 pm."

Chet looked up with a smile, "I know Cap. I'm just eager for it to start." He laughed, his hazel eyes twinkling, "I love Samhain!" He glanced up at Cap's confused look and restated, "That's Irish for Halloween, Cap."

Cap poured himself a cup of coffee as he muttered, "Yeah, we all know how much you love trick or treat. Only we get the tricks, you get the treat." Then he frowned at his man, "Chet. You didn't put any trick candy in with the kids' stuff."

Chet looked shocked, "Cap! I wouldn't do that to kids!"

Cap snorted as he refreshed his cup, "not kids. You save that for your crewmates."

Chet chortled as he continued messing with the candy. He'd make sure that the 'special' candies would be in the bowl only for the firefighters. Most of his 'gifts' in place or nearly so, he poured himself a cup of coffee, grabbed the part of the paper Cap didn't have and began waiting. Before long, he heard cars coming into the parking lot. He could almost tell the order they'd come in. First would be Mike, he was almost always in just a little after Cap. Then, possible Roy or Marco would be next, Johnny would pull into the lot nearly behind his partner. He shook his head, it seemed the longer those too stayed teamed up, the closer they became. They almost worked in total sync; arriving together, leaving together, eating together, moving through the station instep. Chet made a disgusted face; it was almost creepy, like they were the two halves of one whole in separate bodies. He couldn't imagine being that close to another person. At least and not unless married.

That led to another thought and he perked up, hmmm, maybe a new angle to bug his pigeon with? Married to Roy? Attached at the hips? Comments about making Roy's wife being jealousy? He stroked his mustache as his eyes gleamed, '_**It has possibilities, wonderful possibilities.'**_

Cap's eyes caught the movement and he watched his lineman over the top of his paper. He sighed, whatever demented plan that warped little Irishman was thinking now he could tell just from the actions didn't bode well for the rest of them. He sighed again as he suspected who was the probable target. '_**Things have been escalating around here lately. If Chet doesn't back off soon, I might have to step in. The stuff he's been doing recently borders on harassment'**_ He tried to focus his attention back on the paper but his thoughts were getting in the way. '_**Not that John will ever report him. John gets upset but he never has taken that extra step. Still, I hate to see one man harassed so. Yeah, I guess I'll have to step in soon. We'll see what he has planned for us today. Hopefully my talk to him last shift had some impact.' **_

Mike came through the door, nodded to his shiftmates, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. Cap shoved part of the paper toward his engineer and settled back once more, trying for the third time to finish the article he had in front of him. More car noises came as the rest of A-Shift showed up.

Cap looked up and noticed Chet had left his place at the table. He caught Mike's gaze and rolled his eyes. "Wanna bet he's peeking through the locker room window?"

Mike shook his head, "No bet, Cap."

Just then they heard a familiar yelp and a "Chet!"

Cap sighed. Mike nodded, "Johnny found the first water bomb."

Next a loud high pitched scream came, the sound of furniture moving then a loud fast string of Spanish. Mike looked up at Cap in surprise, "He got Marco too?"

Both men pushed up from their chairs and went to investigate. Chet leaned against the wall, holding his sides as he laughed. A very wet Gage was straightening up a bench while Roy was assisting Marco to his feet. Both paramedics then pushed the still verbally spewing lineman onto the righted bench and began checking out his arm.

"Roy?"

Roy looked up, "I think it's just bruised."

"What happened?"

Roy nodded toward Marco's open locker and something that dangled in front of it. "Spider rigged up to drop in front of him."

"Unnatural things," Marco was finally regaining his English. He shuddered. "Too many legs. I've hated spiders for years." He glared at his still laughing friend. "What I want to know is how he found out?"

"Not me, man," Chet denied as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "But I understand the Phantom met with a cousin of yours. Something about a wood shed?"

Marco glared, "That …. ( he monitored his mouth from what he wanted to say) Juan! I can imagine what he told you. He bragged about locking me and Juanito in a shed, didn't he." He shuddered again, "I hate spiders, that's true and my Papa had found black widows in there earlier but that wasn't the reason I was so scared in there. Juan nearly killed Juanito with heatstroke because he locked us in that windowless shed in the middle of July and wouldn't let us out again."

No one saw Johnny's head jerk up at that. The younger man looked closely at Marco, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Cap sighed, "Well, as long as you're ok."

Marco nodded as he stood up. He yanked the spider down and threw it at Chet who again began laughing.

"Roll call in ten minutes, gentlemen." Cap looked over at his soggy paramedic who seemed lost in deep thought. "John? You ok?" In his half-dressed state, the still healing bruises were starkly visible on his exposed body.

Johnny shook himself and blinked as if waking up. "Huh? Oh yeah. Fine." He moved back over to his own locker to complete his own dressing.

Marco finished, slammed his locker shut and left, glaring at Chet as he went past.

Roy looked over at Johnny, noticing the abrasions he received last shift were scabbed over and the bruises were now vivid purples mixed with the beginnings of yellows and greens. Johnny seemed to sense his partner's gaze and turned to face him with a faint grin.

"I'm fine, Roy."

"You sure, Junior?"

Johnny nodded, "Yeah. Just a little sore in spots but fine." He signed heavily as he buttoned his shirt. "Man Roy. I'm really not looking forward to today's shift."

Roy tucked in his pants and began attaching his badges and pins. "But Johnny, you told Jo the other night you love Halloween."

Johnny looked up from where he was fastening his own pants. "I do. Most of it. I love the whole harvest festival thing with cider and candied apples and stuff. I love watching the kids have fun trick or treating, carving pumpkins, and all that."

Roy watched as his partner tucked his shirt in then sat down to tie his shoes. "But?"

Johnny sighed, "But I don't like the drunken parties, little kids getting knocked down by bigger kids for their candy, or the stupid stuff people do to other people just because they think it's funny."

Roy nodded as he shut his locker and sat on the bench. "Ahh. And the stuff the Phantom does is included in that."

Sad brown eyes gazed at Roy as Johnny looked over his shoulder at his partner from where he stood in front of his locker. "The shift's just started Roy, and we've already seen two pranks."

Roy shrugged, hoping to turn his friend's pessimistic gloom before it got worse. "Maybe that's all he has."

Johnny's snort showed what he thought of that. He turned and looked Roy straight in the eye. There was something about Johnny's look, something too sincere, too knowing in those brown eyes that suddenly seemed too old. Roy felt a chill chase down his spine as his partner solemnly said, "Roy? I've got a really bad feeling about today."

Roy blinked, numbly nodding his head while he muttered, "Yeah. Yeah ok." While part of him dearly wanted to deny any superstitious nonsense about the day, there had been something in Johnny's gaze. He shook himself and quickly rid his mind of the residue.

Johnny attached his medical pouch on his belt, placed his pen and pad in his pocket, then reached into the dish he kept his badge and pin in. He could feel them but he couldn't pull them out. "What the . . ." He tried pulling the dish down from the top shelf but it wouldn't move either. He stood on his toes, trying to see better.

His actions caught Roy's attention and the lighter haired medic moved closer. "Johnny?"

Johnny muttered something under his breath. Roy didn't catch what it was but the dark expression on his partner's face told him it was probably not nice—and was probably in his native tongue as well. "Roy, we got any acetone in the squad?"

Roy looked puzzled, "Yeah. I think so. We've been trying to carry some ever since they came out with that new glue. Why?"

Johnny didn't answer. Instead he headed out the door. Roy followed. Cap was just coming toward them as the two came out. He looked up, "Ah good. Line up gentlemen."

Johnny hesitated, looking first at his captain, then at the squad, then glaring at Chet who stood trying to look innocent while smirking. Roy, bewildered by his friend's behavior, took his place next to Marco, noticing the large gap the Hispanic had made between him and Chet.

Cap stood in front, clipboard in hand. Glancing up, he saw Johnny standing behind the squad. He put a hand on his hip, his voice sharp as he called, "Gage!"

Johnny jumped slightly, his attention now on his captain. Cap motioned toward the others. "Would you care to join us, Fireman Gage?"

Sighing, his shoulders slumped, Johnny took his place next to Roy while Chet snickered more.

Cap read off several memos from his clipboard first and Roy glanced repeatedly at his partner, who fidgeted by his side. Then Cap looked up and looked over his men. He stopped, his brows drawing together into a frown as he stepped closer to his youngest crew-member. "Fireman Gage, you seem to be out of uniform."

Johnny stared straight ahead but his eyes were blinking rapidly. "Yes sir."

Cap's frown deepened, "You are aware of this?"

Johnny gave a faint nod. "Yes sir."

Cap shifted his weight onto one leg and put his opposite hand on his hip. "Well, then, don't you think you should correct the problem?"

Johnny swallowed hard, "I . . . I would sir, if I could." He shot a glare toward Chet who was beginning to have trouble covering his snickering.

That look told Cap a lot and he relaxed his stance, his voice more in the conversational range as he asked, "Would you mind explaining?"

Johnny gave a curt nod, his eyes catching his captain's for a second before he resumed his stare straight ahead. "You know where I keep my badge and pins . .."

Cap nodded, knowing about the dish. Johnny's jaw tightened. "It seems they have become stuck to it. And the dish to the shelf."

Three things happened simultaneously: Chet exploded into full out laughter, Cap sighed heavily and Roy burst out with, "That's why you wanted the acetone off the squad!" Johnny nodded once again. Then Cap realized why his paramedic had been reluctant to join the others in line and why he was headed toward the squad when stopped.

He looked back down at the clipboard, "Well then, in light of those circumstances, I will forgive this transgression. But only this once," He warned as he made a few marks on his sheet. "As soon as you can, I expect you to correct this problem and be in full uniform."

Johnny's voice was barely above a whisper, his gaze still straight ahead as he acknowledge with a, "Yes sir."

Cap turned to Chet, not unaware of the sympathetic gazes shot toward the junior paramedic by the other two men. "Kelly! You have latrine and the bay and I want the parking lot swept." He stepped closer and Chet's laughter faded at the look in his leader's eyes, "And it had better sparkle."

"Yes sir."

Cap looked down at his schedule, mentally moving some things around. '_**Best keep John as far away from Chet as possible today**_.' "Lopez, you and John will hang hose. C shift was out with a fire last evening and there's several hundred feet to wash. DeSoto, you have the dorm, Stoker, kitchen. I want this station to shine, gentlemen. Don't forget tonight is Halloween and we always get kids who stop by. That's all, Dismissed."

As soon as the words left his mouth, both his paramedics headed toward the squad, pulling open a compartment then one of the boxes. While Roy started with the morning battery swap and calibrations, Johnny grabbed a small bottle and hurried back toward the dorm.

Chet, his mustache twitching, turned to follow him but stopped when Cap barked, "Kelly, where do you think you are going?"

Chet turned around, his eyes wide, "To do the latrines Cap . . .. like you said."

Cap shook his head, "Do the parking lot first."

Chet's smile turned into to a frown but he turned toward the supply closet first and Cap was glad that he was able to maybe give his youngest a bit of a break. Before long, Johnny reappeared, his badge and pins in place. He put the bottle back then pulled the drug box to count while his partner replaced the biophone.

"Sheeshh, Roy, there's hardly anything left in here."

Roy looked down at the many holes in the normally full slots. "We'd better get a count and get restocked fast. I have a feeling today will be busy."

Johnny nodded, his hands already sorting. Before long, they had their lists made up and Roy headed toward the office. A yelp from the kitchen caught their attention. Johnny exchanged glances with Roy then the two walked that direction. Cap, too, had heard and came out of his office to see.

Like a demented mouse, Chet peeked his head in the back window, his mustache again all aquiver.

"What the . . ."

"Ah, man."

"Dios . .."

"Stoker? He got _**you**_?!"

Mike Stoker stood in front of an open cabinet, drenched from head to waist. His back was rigid as his tongue flicked out of his mouth and licked. "Hmm." He deadpanned. "Orangeaid. I prefer 7-up."

Cap swiped a hand down his face. "Go get changed Mike." He glared at the laughing face in the window and Chet wisely disappeared. A hand tapped Mike's shoulder and he turned, seeing the wet towel being handed him then followed the arm up until his blue eyes met with Johnny's soulful brown ones. "I'm sorry." He murmured, his gaze dropping as Mike took the towel.

Mike scowled at his shiftmate. "Did you set this?"

Johnny looked up quickly, his eyes wide as he shook his head. "No! Of course not!"

Mike smiled at his friend, "Then why are you apologizing? We all know who did this."

Johnny shrugged as he looked out into the parking lot. "Yeah. But he usually just targets me."

"So? This year he's spreading it out." Mike wiped the towel over his face then gave Johnny a grin that made him swallow hard and take a step back. "I'll get even."

"Johnny, we need to restock." Roy interrupted. Mike looked over at the other paramedic. "Hey Roy? Can you wait just a sec? I've got a list of things needed for chow today."

Before long, list in hand, the squad headed off. While the supplies were being gathered, the two indulged in a cup of coffee with Betty. "So, Dix off today?" Johnny asked. Betty shook her head as she handed him another IV setup. "Nope. She got the graveyard shift. She and Brackett both."

Johnny grinned and made a sound, "Gee, lucky them."

Betty smiled. "Well, I think that's it boys. You be careful out there today."

Johnny smiled as he scooped up the box. "See ya later."

Betty shook her head, "I'd rather not, but the odds are against it."

Roy and Johnny laughed as they headed off. After calling in available, they headed for the groceries and got what Stoker needed. Soon they were back at the barn. Johnny jumped out quickly, telling his friend, "I'd best get out back and help Marco." Roy nodded as Johnny ran off. He carried the bags into Mike and left to work on his own chores.

Marco and Johnny worked companionable together for several moments. Marco eyed the younger man, seeing the deep look of thought on his face and wonder what his dark haired friend was stewing about now. Like the rest, he knew that a silent Gage soon gave way to a retrospective Gage and what his mind would come up with was anybody's guess.

"Hey Marco?"

Marco smiled quietly. '_**Here it comes**_.'

"You said your family had a foster kid?"

Marco blinked, at first surprised that this was what the paramedic had been mentally chewing on. He would've bet it had to do with Chet's pranks. He nodded, "Actually we had several. My momma, she did a lot with Child Services and the Church. Over the years, we've probably had close to 10 or 15 kids staying with us. Some babies, some older."

Johnny looked at him, his eyes wide. "At once! But don't you have a big family yourself?"

Marco laughed, "No, not all at once. I think the most we had together were 3 siblings, two girls and a little boy. Most were only there for a few weeks, some a month or more." He lifted another length of hose for Johnny. "And yes, I have a large family, My brother José, my oldest sister Roccio, myself then the twins Dorotea and Dulcia. My cousin, Juan lived with us for a few years while his parents were getting divorced," The tone of his voice told what he thought about his cousin.

As he worked, Marco thought back to what he'd said in the locker room. "You know? I haven't thought about Juanito in years. He stayed with us the longest, I think it was just about a year total. Nice kid, so quiet and spoke very little English."

Marco smiled as he remembered the child who followed him around, eager to learn. "But he picked up Spanish very quickly."

Johnny hung another length and dropped the pulley again. "He didn't know any English?"

Marco shook his head, "Oh no, we were pretty sure he knew English, he just wouldn't speak it. You could talk to him in English and he'd answer in broken Spanish once he began to learn." Marco frowned as memories came back, "At first, he never said anything. Then when he did, we didn't understand the language he spoke in. By the time we were trying to find it out, he was picking up on Spanish." He shrugged as suddenly another thought came to him. "I guess he did speak English. I mean he went to school while he was with us, so he would have had to use English there."

He sighed, his hands busy. "I wonder what ever happened to him? I know Momma has never forgotten him. She still lights a candle for him."

"Oh." was Johnny's only reply then silence reigned until the tones caused both firefighter's heads to come up. As they scrabbled toward the station, they heard,

"Station 51 Structure fire, 1780 Alameda Lane. 1-7-8-0 Alameda Lane. Cross street Tangerine Street. Time out 10:05."

Marco swung up into his place on the engine as Johnny hopped into the squad. Before long, the squad was racing through the late morning traffic, the engine right behind. They pulled up to a full engulfed garage in a modest neighborhood and Cap began giving orders as before the vehicles even stopped. A sheriff came running up to him even as Chet and Marco pulled the ordered hoses and Johnny came running over from the hydrant where he'd connected the line to the engine.

"Everyone's out." The Sherriff panted, shaking his head. "You won't believe this one."

Cap made a grim face, "Try me."

The Sheriff snorted, "The homeowner was cleaning his mower blades when he started the fire. A spark caught a pile of rags and you know the rest."

Roy and Johnny exchanged glances and Johnny heard his voice say, "Cleaning his mower blades? With what?"

The Sheriff eyed them, "With gasoline and steel wool."

Cap rolled his eyes, "That'll do it. Alright you two, since everyone is out, I want you to grab a second line and start wetting down the house. Let's try to keep it from catching as well."

Three long hours later, the garage was a collapsed smoking heap and the house had some smoke and water damage but was saved. A weary crew cleaned up the area, pulling apart wood and watering it down well before winding up the hoses and finally heading back to the station.

"I'm starved." Johnny moaned as he got out of the squad. Mike, who had just climbed down from the engine next to him, grinned, "Good thing I planned something fast and easy for lunch then. Let me clean up a little and I'll get right on it."

The others headed toward the kitchen dropping wearily into chairs. Before long, Mike was back. As the shower was empty, each man headed off to clean up and change while soon the smells of food drifted through the air.

Chet walked into the kitchen noticing that other than Mike, it was empty. "Where is everyone?"

"Cap's in his office, Marco's in the shower, Johnny's out back and Roy's finishing the dorm." Mike answered as he stirred the large pot of homemade Mac and cheese.

"Oh." Chet answered, as he sank into a chair. "Man, Mikey, that smells wonderful." Chet froze as a hand of steel clasped the back of his neck. "My name is not Mikey." Stoker's voice was cold and Chet swallow hard. "Ooo. .ohh, k. .kay, Mike."

"And another thing. I'm _not_ Gage. You get into my locker again, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." Chet's brain rattled as the hand shook him. "Got it?"

"Got it." Chet managed. The hand left the back of his neck and he resisted the urge to rub the sore area.

"Man Mike! That smells fantastic," Johnny entered the area, his eyes closed and his nose in the air. "I could smell it all the way up the hose tower." Mike grinned at him.

"Shower's yours, Johnny." Marco said as he sat down. Johnny looked over at the pots on the stove. Mike grinned again. "You've got ten minutes max."

Johnny flashed him a smile and zipped off.

Soon all six men were seated and enjoying a hot meal of Mac and Cheese, sloppy joes, potato chips and the brownies Marco had brought in made by his sisters. Chet was the last to enter and as he did, the phone on the wall started to ring. "I'll get it." Johnny said, popping up and picking up the receiver. "Station 51. Fireman Gage speaking." He said but he heard no sound from the receiver. Instead, the phone continued to ring. Johnny's face crinkled into a puzzled look as he looked at the receiver in his hand, then at the still ringing phone on the wall then over at his station mates. "Uhhh, Cap? It . . it .. . .. . uhhh," He put the receiver back to his face and again said, "Station 51. Hello?"

Chet was nearly doubled over with laughter. Johnny frowned then tapped the bracket for the receiver. As he did, he noticed it didn't move. "What . . .?"

Meanwhile the phone continued to ring. Johnny gave out a phrase of Dahkota, his voice heavy with disgust. He undid the tape holding the bracket down, the bracket raised up and the phone stopped ringing. A click came loudly over the receiver and then a dial tone echoed.

"John, your meal's getting cold." Cap said as he frowned at Chet. Johnny hung up the phone, his face dark, his eyebrows hunched downward. Mike silently handed him a plate with a sloppy joe already on it and he perked up.

"Hey Gage, need ketchup?" Chet smiled as he handed the bottle to the paramedic. Johnny glared at him, "No. I'm gonna eat my chips like this," That said, he stuffed several layers into his sloppy joes, picked it up, took a big bite and happily chewed.

Chet watched him for moment. "You are so strange, Gage," He said disgustedly then turned his attention to his own meal.

Johnny looked over at Mike and winked. Mike smiled back; it was he who suggested the paramedic might like that new taste. A friend of his from high school always ate his sloppy joes that way. Mike shook his head, of course that same friend liked green beans in chocolate pudding. He shuddered slightly at that thought then watched as Johnny demolished one sandwich and reached of another. The dark haired medic frowned when he realized Chet sat smirking at him, the last bun in his own hand. Then Johnny shrugged, dumped a large portion of sloppy joe mix onto his plate and happily began scooping it up with more potato chips.

Roy caught Mike's eye and rolled his, both amused at their friend's obvious enjoyment of his meal.

Dinner was done and the men were enjoying coffee and brownies when the tones sounded again. For most of the rest of the afternoon, the squad ran all over their response area. The responses were as varied as the locations: a woman knocked down but fortunately not seriously injured by a car in the mall parking lot, a five year old choking on a jawbreaker, another little boy with a wad of bubble gum, a teen who fell off a ladder while decorating for a party.

Soon it was suppertime and two tired paramedics trudged into the kitchen area. Both collapsed into chairs, Johnny burying his head in his arms. Then his head came up as he sniffed. He looked at Mike, "Do I smell tamales?"

Mike nodded. Johnny looked confused. "I didn't know you knew how to make tamales?"

"I don't."

Johnny stared at him, his mouth slightly opened. "But . . . then how . . . you just said. . ."

"He didn't Johnny. Momma and Dulcia came by. They brought them. Momma said she figured we'd be busy enough tonight so she decided we shouldn't have to worry about fixing a good hot meal." Marco told him as he entered the room. Now that the paramedics were back, the hot dishes were brought to the table and everyone dug in.

"Let's get this cleaned up for the open house. Trick or treat will start anytime." Cap warned as the last tamale and enchilada disappeared. Soon the trash was thrown out and the kitchen cleaned. The bowl of candy was placed on the table, ready for that first doorbell.

Johnny looked up at his partner, "Hey Roy? Is JoAnne gonna bring the kids by?"

Roy nodded, "Yeah, she said she would. Don't know what time though."

Johnny's face broke into a wide grin and he wiped a dish rag over his partner's ear. Roy pulled back from the contact, frowning at his friend.

Johnny held up the cloth, his grin widening. "You . . .uhhhh . .. still had some glitter on your cheek there."

Roy took the cloth, wiping his ear and the area around it. "I can't believe Chet put orange glitter into the top of my helmet. How the hell did he get it to stick there?" He looked at the rag, seeing the shining bits reflecting in the light. "I thought I got it all with that last shower."

Johnny shrugged, "Might still be some in your helmet. You know how bad glitter is, that stuff gets everywhere and is awful to try and get rid of."

Roy nodded in agreement and Johnny snickered, as he remembered the sight of glittering oil trickling down his partner's cheek during the fire earlier. Roy glared at him and Johnny shrugged. "Well. At least that was a fairly innocuous prank, Roy."

Roy rolled his eyes heavenward, "Great. He's using his SAT words again."

Johnny punched him in the arm.

"Is the candy ready? I saw kids out in the street." Cap said, then stopped in front of Roy. He grabbed the cloth out of the paramedic's hand and wiped at his cheek. "You, uhh, still are a little sparkly there, pal."

Johnny giggled as Roy made a face. "Thanks, Cap."

The sound of the bay doors going up alerted them and the three joined their shiftmates at the table and chairs set up at the front of the station. Before long, the first group of trick or treaters were there, getting their candy and 'ohhhhing' over the shiny trucks.

Several hours passed; it was now fully dark and most of the trick or treaters headed on home. The candy bowl was seriously low and the men were just lounging around relaxing, knowing that soon they'd have to close everything back up and get ready for what would probably be a busy night. But right now, they were enjoying the clear warm night air.

"Uncle Johnny!" was the only warning the paramedic got before a pink crinoline wrapped figure rocketed toward him. Johnny dropped the bowl of candy in his hands into Chet's lap, causing a pain-filled grunt from the Irishman. Ignoring him, Johnny whirled and bent his knees, deftly catching the little girl who had launched at him. He twirled her around in the air, his smile wide as she giggled happily.

"Careful there, Johnny." A female voice teased, "She already been into her candy."

Johnny dropped the laughing figure lower, settling her legs around his waist as he kissed her cheek. "Been there; done that before, Jo."

Roy's wife reached forward and gave her husband a hug and a quick kiss. "I'm sure you have, Mr. Gage."

Johnny flashed her a megawatt grin, then bounced the little girl in his arms. "Just look at you! You look very pretty, Miss DeSoto."

Jenny Desoto giggled and tossed her blonde curls. "Well of course, Cinderella has to look pretty for her prince!"

"And who might that be, pretty lady?" Chet asked as he offered her the bowl of candy. She took a few tootsie rolls, dropped them into her bag then hugged Johnny's neck tightly. "I'll never tell."

Johnny blushed but he tightened his arms around the little girl who had long ago stolen his heart.

Chet's eyes twinkled at this revelation but before he could say anything further, another voice came. "Uncle Johnny! Wadaya think of my costume?"

Johnny looked at the young man now standing at his feet wearing a light blue jumpsuit with car product logos painted on the arms and legs and a helmet tucked under his arm. Johnny stroked his chin thoughtfully, his face taking on a serious look as he examined the boy. Then he smiled, "I think you're the best dressed racecar driver since the Unser brothers."

Chris's blue eyes sparkled and he made a face at his sister, "I toldya Uncle Johnny would know what I was."

Jenny returned the face but stopped as her father said, "Hey! What about me?"

Johnny put the girl down and she and Chris both ran over to greet their dad. Johnny watched the two hug their father and chatter to him about their escapades so far that evening.

"Hey Prince John? Wanna piece of candy?" Chet's eyes twinkled as he held out a smaller bowl than the one they'd been giving to the kids.

"Shut up Chet," Johnny muttered, but he picked out a piece of hard candy with a purple wrapper. He unwrapped it, stuck the wrapper in his pocket and popped the sweet into his mouth.

"So, Johnny. Have you guys been busy today?" Jo asked as she walked over to stand next to the young man.

Johnny gave a slight shrug. "This morning wasn't so bad but we were almost none stop from lunch on. This is the …"

"Don't say it!" Voices cautioned and Johnny grinned.

Jo laughed, "That's OK, Johnny, I get the picture." A strange noise came from the man beside her and she moved to see him better in the light. Johnny's eyes were wide and starting to tear. His face was red, and his mouth opened in fast pants. "Johnny! What's wrong? Roy! I think he's choking!" She called as she grabbed for her friend.

Her cries alerted the others who turned instinctively at her alarm. Roy leapt up from where he'd been kneeling, looking over his children's loot with them. Cap whirled around from where he was talking to an older couple. Marco hurried out from the bay. No one seemed to notice Chet had collapsed in a fit of giggles into his chair. Mike was the closest and he, too, reached for the struggling paramedic.

But before anyone could grab him, Johnny dove around the corner of the building into the shadows. After a moment's hesitation, Roy, Mike and Jo followed him. Johnny leaned with one hand against the station wall, his body hunched over. He was now gagging and coughing and spitting.

"Well? He's not choking." Roy muttered as he placed a supportive arm around his partner's shaking body. "At least not right now." Mike came up to brace him also. With all the gagging and coughing Johnny was doing, neither was very surprised when that turned to vomiting. Soon the paramedic only dry heaved, his mouth dripping almost as much fluid as his eyes.

"You ok?" Roy asked as he handed Johnny the wetted rag Marco had brought. Johnny wiped his face and tried to straighten up. Now his face was white and his legs were shaky but he gave a nod.

"You sure?" Roy asked, his fingers slipping downward to encase his partner's wrist. He could feel the pulse racing there but it was slowing as was Johnny's breathing.

Johnny gave a sigh. He knew what Roy was doing but at the moment, he didn't have the strength to fight him. His knees were weak and his mouth burned something fierce. "I'm . . .I'm . .. ok." He finally stuttered.

"Let's get him off his feet." Roy looked at Mike who nodded, and grabbed the paramedic's other arm. Together, Jo still following, they walked back over to the chairs and carefully sat him down.

Chet was still laughing, the two DeSoto children were white-faced themselves, Cap looked worried, his hands on their small shoulders in both a gesture of comfort and a restraint. "You alright there, pal?"

Johnny nodded.

"Johnny, what happened?" Roy asked.

Johnny took a breath and held it, swallowing hard and making a face. "The . . .the candy. Hot . . .real hot."

Someone held out a glass of water and he reached for it gratefully only to have it grabbed away. "No, Johnny, don't!"

He looked up bewildered at Jo who held the cooling liquid from him. "Jo, he needs to rinse out his mouth. I think he's ok now." Roy began calmly. But his wife shook her head.

"No Roy, give him this." Marco reappeared with a glass of milk and a slice of bread. Roy frowned, "Uhh, he just vomited; that's probably not a good idea."

"If it was something hot, it could have had oils in it. The water won't get rid of it but the bread will and the milk will soothe the burn." Marco explained and Jo nodded. Roy watched as Johnny carefully ate several bites of the bread, making sure to move the dough all over his mouth. Then he swallowed and took several sips of milk. It did seem to cool the fire and his body relaxed.

Seeing him relax, the others did as well.

"That was . . . that was priceless!" Chet crowed as he gasped for breath, "You . . you should've seen your face!" For the first time, everyone noticed Chet hadn't reacted like the others had. Marco glared at his friend, as did Roy. Mike's eyes narrowed and Cap growled, "Kelly! Did you have something to do with this?"

Chet blinked innocently, "Who me, Cap. Nope. Not me!" He giggled more. Suddenly he let out a yelp and pulled both his legs back under his chair. Two angry children stood in front of his now throbbing shins. "That was mean! You pulled a mean trick on Uncle Johnny and made him sick!" Jenny shouted.

"My teacher says tricks like that aren't nice," Chris added. "They're mean and selfish. She said a trick is only funny if everyone thinks it is. Hurting someone isn't funny, Mr. Chet." Chet looked in open mouthed awe at the familiar words coming out of the child's mouth.

Jo grabbed her kids away from the firefighter. "That's enough out of you two." She said. Both looked up at her, their faces again upset. "But Mommy, he hurt Uncle Johnny!"

"I'm . . .I'm awright." Johnny told the two. He'd finally got his breathing back under control and his stomach to settle. Both children went over to the paramedic and encircled him with hugs. "I'm fine now. And if not, your Daddy and the others can take care of me." He pulled each close and whispered into their ears, "And thanks for defending me. But we'll let that be our secret."

They grinned back at him, then released him. Jo looked at him, noticing his face had regained his normal coloring and he seemed to be at ease. "Well, I guess I do need to get these guys home." She kissed her husband. "Bye hon, be safe. I'll see you in the morning."

Then she leaned down and kissed Johnny on the cheek, "Bye Johnny. You be safe too. Why don't you come over with Roy in the morning and I'll make blueberry pancakes." Johnny grinned up at her then blushed as she tousled his hair. She took her children's hands, instructing them. "Say you're sorry to Mr. Kelly."

Both children chimed, "I'm sorry Mr. Kelly." But he could see by the look in their eyes they were anything but. He wisely just nodded. Cap glared at him, "Kelly, go take care of the clean up inside." Muttering under his breath with an occasional giggle still sneaking out, Chet left.

"Now say good bye to everyone else." Their mother instructed. They did so with a much happier tone. With one last wave, Roy's family left but the firefighter's could hear Jo admonishing her children as she left, "We will be discussing you two's behavior in the car. Honestly, I know I've taught you better . . ."

"You sure you're ok, John." Cap asked.

Johnny looked up and nodded as he finished his milk. "I'm fine now, Cap."

"Johnny, do you know which ones they are?" Mike asked, the smaller bowl of their candy in his hand and he was looking through it.

Johnny shook his head, "No. I think it might have been purple 'cause I remember expecting grape."

Roy had a thought, "Hey. Johnny. Did you put the wrapper in your pocket?" He knew that because of the deep seated habits his partner had about leaving an area he camped in as untouched as possible, his friend habitually stuck things like wrappers and bits of trash in his pocket to be disposed of later.

Johnny blinked, then reached into his pocket, pulling out several wrappers for an IV setup as well as candy wrappers. "This one." He handed it over to Mike. Mike inspected the wrapper carefully, then began pulling all the pieces out with similar markings. Most where different colors but the patterning was the same.

"Good," Cap said, holding out a wastebasket. "Now throw those things away before we have another . . .MICHAEL!"

As they watched, Mike unwrapped a piece and plopped it into his mouth. Johnny's eyes went wide as he shot forward from his chair. "MIKE! Are you INSANE MAN!"

Mike looked up at them, sucking eagerly then smiled big. "I like hot." He sucked more and swallowed, "Not bad. Not bad at all. Very black peppery rather than chili peppery." He put the rest into his pocket for later enjoyment. Cap shook his head at his engineer then ordered, "You two clean up out here. Marco? Is there any coffee and brownies left? I think I need a caffeine fix." They walked into the station leaving Johnny and Mike where they were.

Johnny watched the engineer, his mouth slightly open, then he shook his head, "And they call me strange."

Mike laughed as the two began folding up chairs and placing them away. Once they finished, Johnny looked at Mike again. "You really like pepper?"

Mike nodded.

Johnny gave a smile, "I have a recipe from my Aunt for a Christmas cookie called Pfeffernusse. It's German I think. It's got stuff in it like pepper, nutmeg, clove and ginger with honey. It tastes peppery but not as hot as those things. She just sent me a big tin of them."

Mike grinned at his friend, "It sounds good, Johnny."

"Ok. I'll copy it down and bring some in so you can try them. If you like them, I'll give you the recipe."

"So, how is your aunt? She gonna be here for the holidays this year?" Roy asked as the two men walked toward him.

Johnny made a face, "She's good, I guess and no, she won't. That's why I got the tin. She sent me stuff for Christmas early because she's headed out again."

"Oh? Where to now, or don't you know?" Mike asked, knowing the younger man's closest relative often took on dangerous foreign assignments for her convent. She wasn't always allowed to say where she was going. '_**Worse than the military**_,' he mused, '_**and more dangerous than some of their places**_.'

Johnny shrugged, "Don't know. Guess she couldn't say." Together the two walked back into the station and Roy closed the bay doors behind them.

Chet gathered up all the trash from inside the station and carried it out to the big container out back of the station. In his mind, he reviewed the tricks he'd pulled today on his friends. It had been a glorious day, he'd gotten each one and hadn't gotten Cap accidently even once. He chortled gleefully, knowing there still were some special goodies in his bag.

He smiled broader as he recalled the look of horror on Johnny's face right before the young man had fled around the corner and out of sight to retch. "Awesome, just awesome" Then he frowned as he bumped his painful shin against the metal as he dropped the lid. "Blasted kids." Then he chuckled rather snidely, "Figures Widdle Johnny would be defended by rug rats. He's nothing but a brat himself."

"The boy was right, buairt, hurting people isn't funny. I told you years ago a prank is only funny if all parties eventually laugh, including the one pranked. And causing another pain should never be considered funny."

Chet froze, the hairs on his neck standing straight out along with the hair on his arms and legs. He knew that voice, would never forget that voice. Swallowing hard, and blinking he turned slowly. There she stood, in the familiar skirt and blouse she wore like a uniform, her auburn hair pulled back into a braid that wrapped around itself at the base of her neck, her Kelly green eyes slightly slitted, watching him closely. Einin nodded.

"Yes, Chester. It's me. We warned you we would be back on Samhain, remember?"

Chet struggled to talk with a suddenly dry mouth. "B . . .b . ..back?"

She nodded, "Yes. That was the deal you struck." She moved forward, glaring at him with obvious disapproval, "Remember?"

All of a sudden, Chet recalled with vivid detail what he'd so lightly dismissed as dreams. A soft eerie sound like the beginning of a heart-broken sigh made his blood run cold. His eyes jerked upward to stare at the ghostly figure standing in midair over the station house. "Tonight, son of O'Ceallaigh, the agreement will be filled. Tonight, on Samhain, on Féile na Marbh, the 'festival of the dead before the witching hour, a life will be forfeit. You have chosen; I am here to collect. We will meet again.' With that, the ethereal breeze she moved with picked up and she was gone.

"NO!" Chet cried, his eyes wide. He looked at his aunt who still stood beside him. "Auntie! That was a Banshee!"

Einin nodded, "Yes. The same one who you made a promise to fifteen years ago and the same one you offered a new contract to just five days ago. She agreed to your choices for surrogates on Wednesday."

Chet sagged against the bin. "I . . .I thought . . . I . . .thought."

Einin nodded, "I know. And I tried hard to dissuade you but you are so stubborn when you get those damned pranks into your head."

Chet hung his head, knowing she was right. He'd thought himself so clever. What **was **he thinking? He froze again. _**What**_ was he **thinking**? Terror widened and dilated his eyes as he turned to his aunt, his breath coming in near sobs.

"Auntie Einin. The agreement. She said surrogate."

She nodded, her eyes cold.

Chet blinked. "Oh God. Who . . . ?"

Einin looked back over to the Station and waved her hand. As if it melted away, the wall turned opaque and Chet could see his station mates sitting at the table, enjoying coffee and deserts. Around each one was a glow, Cap's shone violet, reflecting his calm command influence, his caring of "his men", Mike's was a pure red reflecting his strong will and his realistic nature, Roy's was a bright blue, reflecting his role as an cool, caring, calm person—an inner turquoise glow from his body to his hands and head signified his abilities in healing. Then Chet's eyes were drawn to Marco who, laughing at something, was handing Johnny a brownie. Marco's aura was the golden hue of a spiritual man but there was a creeping dirty tinge overlaying it in places.

Last, his eyes were drawn to Johnny. Johnny's aura, to no surprise for the Irishman, was multi-colored earth tones, reflecting the many facets of his personality and his love of the outdoors and everything in it, like his partner there was also a strong emerald green line, running around his body, focusing from his torso into his head and hands, the sign of a healer. But that same dirty grey/brown was flickering on the edges as if fighting with the natural glowing.

Chet looked at his aunt, his eyes filling with tears. He knew now. He remembered what his thoughts had been, what he'd been planning. He knew.

She nodded, "You were thinking about them. What you had planned for them. Tonight, the Banshee will come to collect the soul owed. Tonight," she waved her hand again and the dirty grey settled over all the auras of the men within. "One of **them**, will die."


	5. Chapter 5

Ok, this one's a long one because I couldn't really find a place to break it. And it's a hard one. Struggle through it. This tale is nearly finished. I promise the ending will be better.

The Debt Paid

Slowly, his heart pounding now in his chest, Chet walked back into the station. Mike had retired to the couch—a paperback in his hands. Cap was gone—probably in his office working on the never-ending mound of paperwork, Marco was next to the TV—fiddling with the channels, Roy sat at the table still—next to Johnny. Both paramedics looked up as Chet walked in.

"What's the matter there, Chester B.?" Johnny grinned. Roy frowned slightly, "Yeah Chet. You look a little pale. You alright there?"

Chet nodded.

"Probably ate too much candy," Marco chortled from his place by the TV. He smacked the top in frustration then went back to twisting the antenna. "Antigualla! Can't seem to pull anything in. It's almost as if there's some sort of interference!" He gave up and left the room, grumbling in Spanish.

Chet poured himself a cup of coffee and drank deep of the scalding liquid, desperate to warm his chilled soul. Johnny's voice right next to his elbow caused him to jump. "You sure you're ok, Chet? You look like you saw a ghost."

Chet blinked up at the taller man, his eyes serious. "Johnny? You have no idea."

Something in his hazel eyes caused the grin to fade from the paramedic's face, to be replaced first by surprise, then worry. Slowly Johnny's hands rose to rest on his slender hips. Chet stared at his friend a moment longer then moved over to sit at the table. He drank the coffee a little more slowly then glanced back over to where Johnny still stood. He focused his attention on the paramedic.

Johnny was staring at the door Chet had just come in from, a frown on his face. Then suddenly he looked up at the ceiling but his gaze was unfocused as if he looked beyond the tiles there.

"Johnny?" Roy's voice startled the younger man and he blinked rapidly, dropping his gaze to look quizzically at his partner. "Huh? What? You say something Roy?"

Roy frowned at him. "Yeah, I did. You sure you're alright Johnny?'

Johnny made a dismissive motion with his hand, "I'm fine Roy. Stop worrying." He retook his seat at the table and leaned back in his chair. "Wadya want?"

Roy sighed, "I asked if you . . ."

What the senior paramedic was going to ask his friend was forever lost in the blaring of the tones.

"Squad 51, man down. 2079 West Kinston. 2-0-7-9 West Kinston. Cross street Little Cove Ave. Time out 19:45."

Chet watched the two paramedics trot from the room, his eyes filled with worry. "Be careful, guys. For God's sake be careful."

To Chet's surprise, Johnny paused fractionally in the doorway and shot him a concerned look over his shoulder, then he was gone. Chet heard the sound of Cap acknowledging the call as the bay door opened. He could see the reflection of the squad's reds flashing off the bay walls and floor as Roy pulled the squad out. Then the siren sounded, the engine accelerated and they were gone. Chet dropped his head to his chest, "Please, be careful." He whispered.

Chet remained in that chair listening as each time the squad called in available it was sent out again. One was a child struck by a car. He figured it wasn't too bad as the turn-a-round was fairly quick and Johnny's voice talking to Dispatch didn't sound upset. Another was a call from police to assist. '_**Probably a drunk**_,' Chet mused from where he now sat alone at the table. Each time the squad was reassigned, his heart clenched: each time they safely called back in, he relaxed marginally.

Finally came the sound of the bay doors opening and the familiar sounds of the squad backing in. The reds were turned off, the engine shut down and two doors slammed. Johnny's voice proceeded him as footfalls approached the kitchen. "But he was naked, Roy!"

"I know Johnny." Roy's voice held a sigh in it.

Johnny frowned as he pulled out a chair and dropped wearily into it. "How in the world did he ever get into that to begin with?"

Roy sat down heavily, resting his head on his braced hands. "I don't know, Johnny, and frankly I don't care. I'm just glad we got him out."

Marco had walked in at that moment and looked at the two. "Naked? You rescued someone who was naked?"

Mike came up behind Marco, his head cocked in curiosity. "What's this?"

Johnny flipped out a hand as he leaned back into his chair. "Oh our last man- down call. Turns out it's this guy who decided to go to a Halloween party as a . . ."

"Station 51, woman down. Glen Haven Cinema. Theater 4. Glen Haven Mall. Crosstreets Tyler Avenue and Holyfield. Time out 22:09."

The squad pulled out, Roy following Johnny's directions as usual, the engine following the squad. Before long, they pulled up to the theater. Mike had to park back a little from the front due to two cars in the fire lane. As he got out, Cap motioned to the cop who had also pulled up. He smiled as he saw the familiar African-American officer set his lips and make a beeline for the cars.

Johnny was pulling equipment while he watched and turned to Roy with a grin. "Vince isn't happy. Those people will be sorry."

Roy nodded and the two headed, with Cap, toward the usher who stood holding the door open. As he led them toward an office area, he was explaining. "We're still running the movie so we moved her back here."

Roy and Johnny exchanged frowns at that. They knew that while people might mean well, moving an injured person without proper knowledge of how to do so could create problems. Unaware of the paramedics' thought he continued, "They were in watching that horror movie about the guy with the chainsaw. We've been running it just about non-stop for the holiday, you see. Anyway, just as it was coming up on the scene where he bursts in, this gal's boyfriend decided to scare her. She choked on her popcorn and jumped backwards, completely out of her seat."

"Is she breathing? Where is she?" Johnny moved faster toward the lit area he hoped was their goal. The usher ran to catch up. The two paramedics and their captain burst through the door. Johnny immediately knelt next to a teenage girl sitting in a chair in front of a large paper-covered desk. He smiled reassuringly at the frightened grey eyes blinking at him. "Hi! My name's Johnny. What seems to be the problem here?"

"Back off, fireman, My girl!" A large burly man probably only a few years younger than the paramedic tried to push between Johnny and his girlfriend. The man glared at the usher, "You said you were callin' an ambulance, man. What's with these clowns?"

The usher backed away from the anger on the boyfriend's face but Cap stepped forward and, grabbing the young man's arm in a firm grasp, pulled him away from the scene. "They're paramedics. They're trained in medical." He explained as he dragged the reluctant boyfriend out of the room into the hallway. "Why don't you come over here and explain to me and this officer exactly what happened?"

The youth tried to pull his arm away from the lanky tall man who had him. He was obviously used to throwing his heavily muscled body around for intimidation but he couldn't shake the firm grip strengthen from years of taming pressure-filled hoses. The boyfriend saw the frowning officer coming toward him; it was suddenly his turn to feel intimidated.

Meanwhile, Johnny and Roy were back with the girl, checking vitals and doing their initial assessment. She was able to haltingly tell them what happened and how she felt. "My . . .my throat really hurts." She whispered, then gave a little cough. Both could hear audible squeaks when she breathed. Johnny nodded, "Probably scratched from the popcorn. I just need to get a listen to your lungs here now." He pulled out the stethoscope and listened, changing the bell's position around her chest, side and back. He pulled back, looking at the girl with a slight frown. "Sherri? Do you have asthma?"

The girl's head came up quickly, her eyes wide. "Who . . who . .?" Then her body slumped wearily. "Please don't tell Ricky." She moaned, "He's got this real hang-up on what he sees as weaknesses. He'll dump me."

Johnny and Roy exchange nods, and Roy added the information Johnny handed him on the pad to what he was telling the doctor on the phone. Johnny laid a gentle hand on the young girl's drooping shoulder. "Asthma isn't a weakness, it's a medical condition." He told her.

"Now. Did this attack start earlier or when you choked?"

A shrug.

"Have you used your inhaler today?"

A shake.

"Do you have it with you?"

A nod.

Johnny continued getting the medical information needed to treat the girl. Soon they had her on O2, had her on a gurney with the ankle she'd twisted when she'd leapt over the seat splinted and were taking her to the waiting ambulance.

Roy climbed in as Johnny handed him the drug box and the biophone. Roy grinned, "See you at Rampart." Johnny nodded and slammed the doors, giving them the customary two slaps of clearance. The ambulance pulled away.

Johnny glanced over at Vince who was watching the illegally parked cars being hooked up to a wrecker. "Someone isn't going to be happy when they come out." He sing-songed loudly. Vince rolled his eyes and Johnny chuckled. Just as he bent over to pick up the remaining gear, something slammed hard into his still bruised body. Off balance, he stumbled over the boxes and fell. Instantly a heavy form was over him as a voice shouted. "I warned ya man. She's my girl! I saw you with your hands all over her neck and down her shirt."

The irate youth grabbed the surprised paramedic's hair and yanked upward, the other fist drawn back, intending to bury it into Johnny's face. But before he could, arms grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground.

"I warned you!" Vince growled. "Now you're headed to jail for assault and battery on a civil servant." He handcuffed the now protesting boyfriend and manhandled him into his squadcar.

"Johnny? Are you ok?" Chet's worried voice echoed in Johnny's ringing ears as hands reached down and pulled him up.

Johnny blinked, rubbing his tender side, then his stinging scalp. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm . . I'm fine." He looked up, his eyes wide. "Man! What _**is**_ his problem?"

Chet didn't answer, he was just glad his friend seemed alright. He glanced over near a dark corner of the building, seeing his aunt standing there. A chill ran down his spine. "You sure you're alright? No broken ribs? You didn't hit your head?" He grabbed the equipment away from the paramedic and stowed it for him.

Johnny frowned at Chet's unusually attentiveness then smiled, "I'm fine, Chet. I'll see ya back at the barn; I gotta go get Roy." With that, he walked around to the driver's side door, climbed in and drove off. Chet didn't see Johnny glance over to the building's side since he was already staring in that direction.

"Kelly!" His captain's shout startled him. "Ya comin' with us or are you walking back?"

Marco snickered from his place on the engine as Chet climbed up and Mike took off.

Chet was in the kitchen getting a drink of milk when the squad pulled in. Johnny's voice, hushed but clearly anxious, came to him before either paramedic appeared in sight. "You sure you're awright Roy? I mean, did you have one of the docs check you out?"

"I'm fine Johnny and yes, Dr. Brackett checked me over. It's nothing but a small lac, didn't even need stitches, just a butterfly or two."

Chet's eyes widened as the two paramedics came through the door, blood clearly visible on the senior paramedic's uniform as well as an obvious white patch on his jaw near his ear. "What happened to you?"

Roy rolled his eyes, looking from Chet's shocked gaze back to Johnny's worried one. He put his hands up, "I'm fine! Now. I'm beat; I'm headed to bed for whatever sleep I can get tonight." He looked pointedly at his partner who had opened his mouth in protest. "Good _Night,_ Johnny." That said he turned and left.

Chet watched him go, then turned back to Johnny who also watched his partner, his hands resting on his slender hips, a frown on his face.

"Drunk driver." Johnny told the lineman. "Cut the ambulance off."

Chet shook his head. "Everyone alright? The girl?"

Johnny sighed and made a motion with his hand, "Yeah. Yeah. She's fine. The attendants' were fine. Roy got smacked with one of the bin doors that popped open but he says he's fine too."

Johnny ran his fingers through his hair, wincing slightly when he hit the area pulled earlier. He frowned as his hand came away with several torn loose hairs wrapped around his fingers. He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat as he threw the sable mass away. "I'm beat too. 'Night Chet." The paramedic headed after his partner.

Chet turned to Einin who watched solemnly from the corner. He shrugged helplessly and looked at the clock. It read 22:15. Nearly six hours left in the deadline. He shuddered. "I don't think I can do this," he moaned. He dumped out the remains of his drink, rinsed his glass, and with a heavy sigh, headed for his own rack.

Although Chet was tired, he couldn't sleep. He lay on his rack, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of his shiftmates. As he did, he realized this was what he had been doing the night the Banshee had accepted one of his shiftmates as his replacement. Without wanting to, his mind conjured up what life in the station would be like without each one in turn.

Of course, without Cap they all would have change. Would any other captain be able to join in the tightly knit crew? He remembered when Hank Stanley had first come to 51's. Cap Hammer had been with this crew a little less than two years and then over the next 13 months they'd had a grab-bag of captains—some good, some bad, some just ok. That time had been trying for all of them, maybe more so for the paramedics since the program was still so new, it was often the first time many of the captains had ever worked with them.

Mike Stoker and Marco had been with the station since it opened, as had he. He knew Mike was a great engineer, one of the best he'd seen in his 7+ years with the department. Mike got along well with the other members of the crew, even if he wasn't talkative. He was a solid member of their tight team and there would be an engine-sized hole without him. He, Cap and Roy were the married compliments to his, Marco and Johnny's singleness.

Marco, his best friend. He sighed. While the Hispanic was a great lineman, Chet knew he wasn't really bragging when he'd say that together they were one of the best teams at handling a hose. They'd also learned a lot in rescue work since both of them had assisted Roy and Johnny so often. While Marco would be a loss to the department, it would be nowhere near the loss it would be for Chet personally. He also knew each of Marco's extended family and knew they'd be devastated if anything ever happened to the spirited and spiritual man.

Family. That brought him to the other married man: Roy DeSoto. He had a beautiful wife and two young children. Chet had been in the department long enough to see what happened to widows. Even though the department and friends of the dead man tried to take care of the families needs, there was no real replacing the missing spouse. Could JoAnne go on without the support of her husband? Would she stay in the area? Or like so many other widows did, move elsewhere to get away from the memories? Then his thoughts turned to the final member of the team. Could Johnny go on if something happened to his partner?

His thoughts went back to the worry oozing from every pore of the younger paramedic as he stood in the kitchen watching his partner walk away just minutes ago. Chet mentally shook his head; somehow he doubted the effervescent, bubbly younger man would ever be that again if that sad scenario came to be. Then his thoughts reversed. Could Roy go on if something happened to Johnny?

He knew that the senior paramedic would "go on" for his family's sake. But would he remain a paramedic? Would he be the same calm, patient man that Station 51 knew without his younger partner who seemed so much a part of him when working? He had briefly known Roy before he became a paramedic, had seen the silent often-stoic man actually loosen up when around Johnny.

On that thought came a vision of life around Station 51 without Johnny. He imagined no endless chatter, no bouncing figure through the halls, no giggle at some comment. How they'd miss the way the younger man's grin seemed to brighten everyone around him, even if it was with just a smile of exasperation. How they'd miss the way Johnny became so intense, so self-assured during rescues, often taking a risk on himself. Somehow the Station would seem, colder, more sterile, less . . . .fun. Chet sighed, he'd really miss the best pigeon a guy could ever desire.

That thought pulled him out of the half-sleep he'd slipped into. Chet found his breathing was fast, his pulse racing. No! He refused to think of him that way. His friend, yes, that was it. Johnny was a friend as were all his station-mates; not just people he worked with or played pranks on but good, trusted friends. The loss of any of them would be agonizing.

The lights came up at the same time the tones sounded. Instantly each man was up and dressed, racing for their vehicles.

"Station 51, Station 48 MVA Beckersville Boulevard, exit 23. Beckersville Boulevard, exit 2-3. Police are on scene. Ambulance has been dispatched. Time out 23:23."

Chet caught sight of his aunt as the engine pulled out behind the squad. He closed his eyes at the sight of her, and said a prayer for all their safety.

Ten tense minutes later, Marco gave a soft whistle beside him and Chet turned his gaze forward. He counted at least five vehicles, all looking more like they belonged on a demolition track rather than a highway. Roy and Johnny were already out of the squad and pulling equipment as the engine came to a stop.

"Kelly! Cables! Lopez grab the reel line and begin washdown." Cap ordered as the other engine and squad came into view. Chet busied himself with popping hoods and pulling cables like ordered. He ran up to a station wagon which looked more like a compact in time to see Johnny's long legs disappear into the interior.

"Chet! I need your help!" Came the paramedic's voice just as Chet finished under the hood. He trotted over to the passenger side and looked in. "Watcha need, Gage?"

Johnny had his penlight in his mouth, one hand clamped against a young teen's arm just above the elbow on the inside, while the other pointed to his feet. "He's bleeding real bad here: I can't let go to get a pressure bandage. Can you grab one then hold pressure here while I finish vitals?"

Chet nodded and did as the dark haired medic requested, staying with him to aid as the teen was extricated from the vehicle and placed into an ambulance. Johnny jumped in with him and they rushed off. Chet sighed, looking around again. He knew that the teen he'd just helped Johnny with was probably the worse hurt. The driver had died on impact. Two others were bring readied for transport by Squad 48 and Roy was taking care of the remaining minor injuries. All total, three dead, one critical, two serious—and the very drunk but fairly uninjured driver of a pickup that had caused it all.

Chet watched as the man yelled obscenities at the cops and the firefighters around him while they worked to free him from the crumpled remains of his truck. Finally he was freed, Roy checked him over and he and the last two people were packaged up to be checked out at Rampart.

Chet and Marco began cleaning up the scene while Captain Stanley and Captain Wilson of 48's supervised the wreckers moving the cars. Marco looked over at his friend and shook his head. "Dios! What a mess!"

Chet nodded. "And all because some guy decided he hadn't already had enough to drink and needed to make a beer run." He jumped up on the engine and began rewinding the reel line.

Marco nodded. "Yeah. And like usual he's the one with the least injuries." He shook his head, "It just doesn't seem fair."

Chet opened his mouth to reply and instead, his eyes widened as he shouted out a warning. "Look out!"

A car, possibly distracted by the lights had tried to maneuver past the wreckers then gunned it while passing the engines, cutting close to the engine side where Marco and Mike stood.

Mike dove downward under the engine while Marco jumped upward onto the running board. The car missed the panels by mere centimeters, raced on by and off the road before coming to a suddenly halt with the front end buried into the hillside.

Everyone began running except Chet and Cap who jumped to check on their friends. When Marco had leapt upward, Chet had reached out to grab his friend, planning on pulling the other man onto the engine to hopeful safety. Now he held his amigo's arm, both men looking into each other's wide eyes.

"You all right?" They both asked at the same time.

"Yeah, I'm ok." Marco said as Chet released him to lean over just as Cap reached them.

"Stoker? You ok?"

Mike came back out and stood up, wiping road dirt from his turnout coat and pants. "I'm fine. A little skinned." He looked at his red and abrasied palms. Marco climbed down, followed by Chet. Cap grasped Mike's wrists trying to get a better look at his hands. He turned around, looking for his senior paramedic and found him trotting his way.

Roy had his mouth in a flat line. He visually looked over Chet and Marco before taking Mike's wrists from Cap. "Let's get those cleaned up, Mike."

Mike hissed as the saline hit the opened wounds then gave a nod to the newest wrecked car. "How are they?"

Roy's face twitched. "Drunk. She's singing Christmas Carols. We'll take her in to get checked over to make sure but other that a broken pinky she seems fine." As they watched, another ambulance came up and the other paramedic from 48's climbed in with her. All could hear the faint sounds of a really bad rendition of 'Santa Baby" drifting in the air.

Chet glanced over by the front of the engine, not surprised to see his aunt standing just on the shadow edge of the headlights. He scrubbed his face as he gave a tired sigh, "I can't do this." He moaned.

Roy's head snapped up and he frowned from where he'd been putting a light wrapping on Mike's hands. "Chet? Are you hurt?"

Chet looked at the worried faces turned his way and gave a weak smile. "I'm fine. Just scared a decade or so off my life." He tried to joke.

Cap snorted then clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You and me both pal, you and me both. What say we finish up here and get back to the barn?"

Soon both vehicles were back in the bay, and six weary firefighters were again in their racks. Chet had checked the clock right before he'd climbed in. It now was 01:45: two hours to go.

For the second time that night the tones and lights called the men from sleep to their vehicles. Chet felt his blood chill as he glanced at his watch just as he heard dispatch say; "Structure fire. Timeout 2:30." For the first time, he didn't hear where or who all was called out. All that seemed to echo in his mind was "Structure fire, Timeout 2:30."

As usual, the scene looked chaotic when they arrived. The structure was a warehouse/office combination complete with storage areas and loading docks andalready fully involved. They were the second responders so the Captain of 36's was the incident commander. He immediately assigned the two paramedics on a sweep since there was a report of people still in the building. Chet and Marco were assigned a hose to cover them. The other squad was covering the other end and yet another alarm had been called in.

"Try and make it fast," He told them, "It's really hot all ready and the damn manifest wasn't updated on what all's in there."

Even under his heavy turnout gear and dragging the hose, Chet felt chilled. Something kept telling him, '_**This is it. This is where it will happen. Here in the dragon's lair. Four of us will go in, and one won't come out**_.' He shook his head hard, trying to dislodge the thought and clenched the hose tighter. "Not if I can help it!" he ground out, "You hear me? I said not if I can help it!"

"You say something?" Marco's voice came from behind him. Chet startled, forgetting for a moment his friend was backing him.

"I said it's really getting hot." He lied, "I hope they hurry."

Marco nodded and tightened his hold as well. Together the two sprayed the encroaching flames as the two paramedics swept the hall, checking each office and marking the closed door with chalk as they finished.

A shout and Roy exited with a victim on his back. He conferred briefly with his partner, just as another hose team joined them. The senior paramedic went with them and Johnny came over to his station-mates. "Jones and Wallace said there's still three unaccounted for. We have two more rooms to search on this floor. The last one is a storage area, big."

They nodded their understanding and Johnny quickly finished the last two offices. As a unit, the three men advanced into the storage area. Johnny began searching the room as Chet and Marco kept their attention on the fire.

Chet tried hard not to watch the paramedic, willing him in his heart to move faster. He circled the hose, spraying the wet stuff on the red stuff in the practiced patterns so ingrained in him. Marco had just tapped his arm to step forward to take his turn on the nozzle when he felt a faint vibration beneath his feet.

* * *

Chet looked up through the haze of smoke from the fire. He blinked his eyes rapidly as he swiveled his head from left to right. As he gazed around at the ruin of the room noticing the gaping hole in what was once the ceiling, the why and wherefore of what he'd been doing just a few moments before came back to him. "Fire. We . . we were at a fire. And . . and Marco and I were back-up with the hose while Johnny was doing sweeps." More alert now he tried to sit up. "Marco! Johnny! They were with me!"

A searing pain shot through his lower body and he gasped, letting his body sink back down. He reached down, felt the beam that laid across his thighs. He pushed desperately at it but it barely moved. It did, however send waves of pain through him. He groaned.

Suddenly Einin was there again, kneeling beside him. His eyes pleaded with her but she smiled sadly, "Chester. It's time." Behind her, he could see the Banshee. He sat up, still trapped but the pain seemed less now, like a wall held it back from him. He could see clearer too, the smoke oddly gone and much of the rubble cleared away. Among the rubble remaining, to his right he could see Marco laying prone. The firefighter's eyes were closed, a cut over his right eye dripped blood into a small pool beside him. His right arm twisted beneath him. Chet caught up his breath in a gasp.

Then his eyes were inexplicably drawn to the left where another figure lay, half on his side, half on his tank. It was Johnny. A cut across the paramedic's lower jaw trailed blood down his hyper-extended neck. In that neck Chet could see, among the stretched taut muscles, his pulse beat slowly. His left leg bent at an angle below the knee where legs shouldn't bend. Various sized pieces of debris covered his body. His facemask was off and Chet could both see as well as hear his gasps for breath.

The Banshee stood in the middle, she raised her arms, thin hands pointing at the two. "Choose," She moaned.

Chet shook his head, "No! NO! I . . I can't choose between my friends. I can't!"

"You must," his aunt told him. "You have no choice."

Chet looked at her, his gaze suddenly steely. He gave a curt nod. "Ok then. I'll choose. I choose me!"

Einin smiled at him sadly, " Sorry buairt, you can't do that. You aren't one of the ones you originally thought of."

Chet thought back to that fateful morning. "Do . . .do you mean if I'd said me back then, they wouldn't be lying here?" She didn't answer but somewhere inside himself he knew it was so.

He looked toward Johnny. The paramedic's breathing was getting more labored. "How can I choose Gage? I mean, he's the best pigeon a guy could want." Even as he thought that, he knew that wasn't the reason. As much as he told everyone that, it only hid the real affection he felt for the younger man. "Johnny is everyone's little brother. God, if Johnny dies, Roy will be devastated."

Then he turned toward Marco—his amigo—his best friend. "But Marco's my amigo, we've been together nearly since the academy. I've been to as many of his family's celebrations as he's been to mine. God, Marco just told me last night he's thinking of asking Lucinda to marry him." He looked back at the Banshee who hadn't moved, although an ethereal breeze spread out her long pale hair and rippled her gown. "Choose," she breathed again.

Einin shook her head, "You have to choose Chet. The Banshee is here to fulfill the curse. Someone must die tonight. You bargained for another's life and that was granted. You can't change that now or all of you will be taken."

Chet felt tears fill his eyes as he shook his head frantically, "I can't. I CAN'T!" He looked from one side of the room to the other. "Don't you understand? These are my friends. My friends! This is their _**lives**_ we're talking about! How can I choose one of them to die!" The tears began to run down his cheeks and he faced the Banshee, his voice angry as he demanded. "Take me! I'm the one who made the original agreement. Ok? I'll honor it, take me"

The Banshee shook her head. And Einin looked at him sadly. "I tried to tell you. You bargained for another to take your place and that arrangement was accepted. Now you have to choose between these two, the ones you thought about when the Banshee came, or all three of you will forfeit your lives."

"Ch . . Chet . . .Chet . .." a faint whisper, not coming from the Banshee, caught his attention. Chet looked first at Marco but there was no new movement; no sign he'd regained consciousness.

"Chet .. ." The voice seemed a little stronger and he now recognized it. Reluctantly he turned toward the injured paramedic. Sure enough, brown eyes were open and staring at him.

Johnny had come to consciousness in a world of hurt, hearing voices and with a strange tingle on the back of his neck. He'd laid still, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. He was in a building; he could smell smoke. '_**Ok. I'm at work. I . . .I was doing a sweep! That's right! Roy?!**_' his first fear was for his partner, then he remembered his partner had already taken a victim out while he, Marco and Chet were finishing the sweep. Chet! Marco! He remembered now; the ceiling, the ceiling had collapsed. The paramedic did a fast self-assessment. Broken leg, his face hurt but the worse was his chest. Pain flared from ribs he feared were cracked if not broken. Something was pressing against him, down on him, making the effort to breathe nearly impossible. He was being slowly smothered.

Then that tingle at the base of his skull intensified and he froze. He hadn't felt that feeling that strong in years!. He remembered when his grandfather would take him with him into the sweat lodge, he would get that same feeling. A chill ran down his spine, he hadn't imagined it, he had been feeling something all evening and now, it was a lot closer. There was something . . ..something here . . .. More alert now, he listened to the voices he could hear near him. Chet was arguing, pleading really, with someone. Something about a bargain. '_**Oh no, no, Chet. Tell me you weren't foolish enough to make a bargain with a spirit.**_' As he listened, he began to understand. And he knew what he had to do. He inhaled as much as he could, calling out, "ch . . Chet. . .Chet . .."

"Lie still, Johnny." Chet's voice choked as he spoke, "They'll be here soon."

A faint smile crossed the younger man's face as he shook his head. Johnny knew that with the pressure on his chest, the increasing effort it was becoming even to move his chest enough to attempt to inhale, he didn't have long. But there was something he could still do for his trapped and injured fellow firefighters. "Not . . .soon e. .. enough. Problem w . . with being a . . . par . . .para. . .medic. " He took a ragged breath and winced, "You . . .you know . . .in . . .juries . . . " He looked away from Chet and a chill ran down the Irishman's back as he realized Johnny's gaze was angled straight toward the Banshee and she was looking right back at him. "I . . .h . .heard. Chet. Don't . . .wor—r y . . ."

Silently he called to the creature before him, recognizing _**what**_ she was even if he didn't know exactly who. His ability to get another breath for talk gone. '_**You demand a blood payment**_.'

She nodded to him.

'_**If it is made, the others will live**_?'

Again she nodded. He gave a faint grin. His vision was starting to fuzz out; his breath now coming in staccato gasps. In this altered reality with the spirit, he couldn't see the debris slowly crushing him between it and the airtank pressing into his back but he could certainly feel it.

'_**Ok, I accept for Chet. Take me.' **_That said, he began the silent chant he'd learned long ago, a chant that would prepare him for the separation of his spirit from his body.

Chet watched in silent horror as Johnny stared at the Banshee. Somehow he knew the paramedic was in communication with it and saw the Banshee nod twice as if in answer to questions. Johnny was gasping now, his breathing too short to maintain life if continued in that manner. Then Johnny's head moved from side to side as if he was struggling with something, and suddenly his body arched upward as if he pushed something away from himself. He gave out a cry which gradually faded off as he slumped back down. His eyes fell partly closed and his body relaxed slowly, almost seeming to deflate as it did.

Chet's eyes were wide, his head shaking in denial as he watched. Einin also watched, her expression both soft and sad. "This one, Chester buchaill, this one's own culture is much like ours. They have spirit walkers as well. He understands."

Fear made Chet's voice shrill as he screamed, "No! Oh God Johnny! No!"

The Banshee, however, had glided over to kneel beside the paramedic's now still and silent form. She placed a ghostly hand on his forehead and began her wailing. Chet's gaze went back to the paramedic's neck and saw the lack of movement. The pulse he'd seen before beating from between the taunt muscles was no longer there. It was the same for his chest; no movement.

"No! I didn't choose! You can't count this; I didn't choose!"

"He chose for you." Einin's voice was sad. Tears ran unchecked down Chet's face as he watched the Banshee wail over the paramedic.

"Chet. Chet! Open your eyes, man." Another voice broke through his misery.

Chet opened his eyes and instantaneously the pain hit him. He groaned. And immediately a hand pressed against his shoulder, preventing any movement. In front of his face, he could now see the worried face of Roy DeSoto.

Roy smiled slightly. "Relax Chet. We'll have you out of here soon."

Chet looked quickly around. The air was again choked with smoke and debris covered the area. He could see two men from 36's on a hose, spraying the fire while two more paramedics and three more firemen approached them carrying two stokes loaded with gear.

Roy never stopped his examination as he spoke to them. "We're gonna need a port-a-power to get this beam off. Give me a c-collar." One handed the c-collar to him as another ran off.

"Chet, do you know where the others are?" He looked up to see his Captain bending over him.

"Y . . .yeah. Marco's over there and . . ." He pointed in the direction of the Hispanic then his eyes went wide as he remembered. He reached up, grabbing Roy's turnout in desperation. "Johnny! You have to get Johnny!"

"We will." Roy soothed as he removed the tight grip. "We'll get you all out; the fire is under control now just relax."

"No!" Chet was desperate. "You must get Johnny first. I. . . I heard him. He was breathing really rough. I don't think he had his mask on." He couldn't reveal just what he'd seen, knowing they wouldn't believe him but he had to get help to Johnny fast.

Now Roy looked at him, his own eyes beginning to show fear. Chet nodded, "I can't hear him anymore." His voice showed his misery. Roy pivoted, looking frantically around.

"Where, Chet?" He demanded, "Where is he?"

Chet pointed, "There. Right there by that column. Hurry Roy."

Roy rushed toward the area as Kyle Stapleton from 36's knelt down in his place instead. Roy threw debris away and quickly found his partner. "Johnny!" He fell to his knees, his hand on his friend's hyper extended neck. "No pulse! Full arrest!" Roy ripped his mask from his own face as he tilted Johnny's chin upward and blew two deep breaths into the still body. "Chet! How long since you heard him!"

"I don't know!" Chet's voice was shrill again as tears ran down his face, pooling in the bottom of his mask. "About a minute maybe. Oh God Roy, he's dead, isn't he."

"Not if I can help it." Roy ground out as he pulled frantically on the piece of ceiling trapping his partner. "This. We have to get this off him. It's suffocated him." He was quickly aided by the two other firemen. As soon as the piece was moved, Roy ran his hands swiftly down his partner's ribs. "Can't tell if they're broke or not," he muttered. The paramedic in him knew it didn't matter. He had to start CPR and take the risk of further damage or breaking cracked ribs. If he didn't get Johnny's heart moving, broken ribs wouldn't matter; he'd be dead just the same. A few more precious seconds were lost as he grabbed the lockblade from his partner's belt and sliced through the straps holding his tank on. The other fireman grabbed the tank and pulled it free from Johnny's body as Roy carefully eased his partner flat on his back.

Without any further hesitation, he started chest compressions. His breath caught in a sob as he felt Johnny's ribs give under his hands. Now he sent up prayers that the life-saving compressions he was being force to maintain, didn't drive a rib fragment into Johnny's lung, liver or worse, his heart. "Come on Johnny," he begged. "Don't you give up. You hear me, don't you give up!"

Cap left Chet's side and hurriedly knelt beside his youngest crewmember's head, counting Roy's compressions and giving a breath for every five. The other two firemen worked quickly to remove the rest of the debris from the fallen paramedic's body. All knew the clock was ticking on the younger paramedic's survivability.

After several rounds of compressions, Roy paused and tried for a pulse once more. His face told all. He suddenly grabbed his partner's shoulders and lifted. Cap was completely in tune with his paramedic and grabbed Johnny's long legs. They immediately lifted the downed man into the stokes, then grabbed the sides and raced out of the building with him. The beam holding Chet down had also been removed and he too was placed in a stokes and taken out. Marco had already been summarily rescued.

Chet watched the action in the triage area as he was carried toward it. Johnny now lay on a yellow blanket, his turnouts and shirts removed from his chest and leads applied. Roy was staring intently at the screen of the defibrillator. "Nothing! Still V-fib." he ground out then looked at Mike who knelt at Johnny's head handling the resuscitator, "Charge" he ordered but the other paramedic assisting him had already depressed the button and the machine was whining its way through the recharge process.

"Two- three- four," counted Connor. "Hit him!"

"Clear!" Roy called as he placed the paddles again to his partner's chest. The collected current discharged into the paramedic's body and it spasmed in reaction. Again all attention was on the screen. Still no conversion. "Asystole!" Connor ground out as he grabbed up the receiver to the biophone. "Rampart, we have counter shocked twice. No conversion. Patient is now showing asystole."

"51 give him epinephrine 2 mg ET , continue. . ."

Chet turned away from the battle going on just feet from him, tears again flowing from his eyes. Johnny was dead. He hadn't chosen but still Johnny had died. He didn't hear Stapleton calling his name as he closed his eyes and let himself fall into the darkness on the edge of his consciousness.

Again he saw Einin kneeling beside him and beyond her, the Banshee continued her lament over the paramedic's still body even while the other two paramedics injected drugs and continued trying to resuscitate him. Mike continued pushing oxygen into the downed paramedic's lungs, his face white with the strain.

Chet looked up at his aunt, barely able to speak through his sorrow. "Why? Why?"

His aunt looked over at the pale figure lying on the ground, "This one understands the concept of a true friend. To rescue another or die trying is more than his chosen profession; it is who he is. That is why he made that choice for you."

"I didn't . . .I never meant for Johnny . . ."

His aunt frowned at him, "Why all these tears and sorrow now, boyo? By your actions, you didn't really care for that young one. Are you just putting on a show for one of your 'brothers'?" She put a strange accent on the word as she spoke it and Chet knew what she meant.

"No, I mean yes, No I mean no." He choked out then his tear-blurred gaze locked onto his shiftmate's pale grey face. "Yes, I'd mourn the death of a brother firefighter but that's not the reason." He tried to stop the sobs as he searched for the words to bargain for his friend's life. "But . . . but that's _**Johnny**_! He _**is**_ like my brother! All of us at 51's think of him that way. He's my friend!" His voice became softer as he thought what life would now be around the Station without Johnny's exuberance and boundless energy. "my very dear friend," he finished softly.

"I see." Einin was nodding her head. "Like little Niall?"

Instantly Chet's face flushed as he recalled his little cousin. For years at every family gathering, he had teased the child four years his junior, pulled endless pranks on the boy until the youngster sobbed and begged not to come to any type of gathering.

Finally, it got so bad that the parents got involved and Chet had been punished. That only made young Chet angry and he took that anger out on the hapless boy. His pranks became not only more subtle but also more cruel. Then one horrid holiday Chet's prank caused the boy physical harm for which he had to be hospitalized. The fallout resulted in fighting between the relatives and the happy family gatherings ceased. It remained that way for long years before the children grew and the adults slowly reconciled. His beloved Aunt Einin had died during that time and because of his actions, his family was excluded from the wake, not even told of the death until years later once the reconciliation happened. Only he'd known. The Banshee had come and told him, warning him that it was his actions that had caused the riff in the family. It was then his promise had been made, that never again would he target someone for torment—for torment had been what his actions had become. And he'd broken that.

Chet couldn't look into his aunt's face as he realized the truth behind her words and he stole another glance toward his downed friend. Roy looked close to exhaustion, his face reflecting now not only his determination but the beginnings of despair. However, the paramedic continued working on his friend. Chet looked at Johnny, noticing for the first time he resembled Niall; they both had dark hair and eyes and that seeming childlike innocence in the midst of an often-cruel world. Was she right? Was part of the reason he picked so on his shiftmate was resentment for his cousin? That thought made Chet feel even worse and he groaned under the spiritual pain.

He felt terrible but it wasn't the pain of his injuries so much as the pain of his consequences, what he'd witnessed and what was happening. He laid there and suffered, watching as the two paramedics tried everything in their considerable skills list to save their colleague.

"Come on Johnny, come on!" Roy panted as he worked. Was that sweat or something else running down his face? Chet wasn't sure; didn't really want to know. "Come on Junior, come back. Don't leave us, Johnny."

Chet watched in silent despair, aware of the basic silence all around them. Even as other firefighters bustled about, doing their jobs, they kept glancing over to the triage area, well aware of the desperate battle being waged there.

Chet could faintly hear Stapleton quietly talking to him, telling him what he was doing at each stage but he wasn't really listening. He barely flinched when the splints were placed on both legs, the pain in his soul much more severe than the pain in his body.

Through it all Johnny remained unresponsive, his limp body compliant to all they did to it. Now Chet began to lose any hope. It was beginning to look like no matter how hard Roy tried, he couldn't resuscitate his partner.

Resuscitate. The thought made Chet catch his breath in a gasp. Wait. Johnny had no pulse, no respirations. Clinically he was dead. The contract was for one to die. But technology could bring back one who was clinically dead. Could this work? Could he convince them that the contract was fulfilled?

"Johnny is dead. You said so yourself and the Banshee acknowledged that with her lament." He shouted out excitedly.

Einin gave a careful nod as she watched him, her face expressionless.

Chet turned his attention toward the Banshee. "The contract is fulfilled. A death has occurred and I have suffered. Now begone!" The Banshee stopped her eerie song and stood. For what felt like an eternity she remained there, her gaze going from the still form at her feet to Chet and back again. "You are correct, son of O'Ceallaigh. The contract was fulfilled." She breathed in her mournful voice. She looked back down at the man at her feet. "This one is not of our race, but he has a spirit worthy of the Fianna Warriors." Chet thought he could almost see fondness in the spirit's dark eyes. Then she turned her gaze back on Chet and her eyes hardened, turning crimson in her ire.

"Remember you well, son of O'Ceallaigh, what has happened here this night and take not lightly the reprieve you have been given or the price paid for it." With that, the breeze which always seemed to toss her hair and gown grew stronger and she was gone.

Chet looked back at his aunt then at his friend. "Let them bring him back." he demanded.

Einin remained still for several heartbeats then she shook her head. "I can't do that, buchaill. No one can do that."

Chet glared at her, "Roy can do that. With the medicine and equipment we have we can bring people back. I've seen it done! I've seen both Johnny and Roy do it!"

Einin's look seemed to pity Chet and that more than anything else scared him, "Of that I have no doubt. No one is holding your friend's spirit from his body. It is his choice to return to his body as it was his choice to leave it."

Chet felt cold all of a sudden. "Wha . . .what do you mean?"

"He is of a different culture. He has his own spirit walkers as I have said and he walks with them now. He may choose to remain with them, in his own world away from your culture that doesn't understand him."

She didn't say it but Chet felt the recrimination in her words. For the first time Chet considered how alone Johnny might feel in the 'white's' world. Time and time again, Marco had tried to get him to understand how hard it was to live in two so separate cultures. He told of the mistreatment and the actions made by prejudices of others, even those in the department.

Marco had told Chet stories of things that had had happened to himself as well as others as minorities began working as firefighters. Marco had no doubt that Johnny had suffered in a similar way. He warned Chet that many of his so-called pranks bordered on persecution.

Chet, however, had scoffed at his friend's words, excusing himself in that a little teasing never hurt anyone and besides, it was good for station moral. Now he wondered.

He looked back over at his friend and strangely, Johnny was now alone. No one now injected medications into him, or pumped on his chest or pushed air into his lungs. His skin held a distinct blue tint; his lips were blue and his eyes now fully closed. Chet stood without even realizing he was doing it and walked over to his friend. He stood there for a few moments then a sob burst free and he collapsed on his knees by his friend's side. He grasped Johnny's cold lifeless hand in both of his as tears flowed down his cheeks.

Slowly at first, then as if the floodgates had been breeched, a raging torrent of words burst from the Irishman. He told Johnny all about how he'd mistreated his cousin, caused a family division and the subsequent curse. How he'd forgotten about his lesson and how he'd been reminded again of the curse's activation by his aunt but had dismissed it, causing the men at the station to then become involved.

"I was stupid, Johnny. When Einin and the Banshee came and told me the curse would be completed by Samhain, I didn't believe them. Instead I played a game, thinking myself so clever when I bargained them into accepting something else in place of me, assuring them that I would suffer more with that rather than my hurt. I wasn't even thinking about a life-life I was thinking about my car, damn it! I was thinking about my damn car!" He choked on a sob as he held the limp hand tighter, "And they agreed! I was so full of myself I promptly forgot their warnings. The night they returned, I was too busy planning all the tricks I was gonna pull at the station, all the pranks I was gonna pull on you and then they told me that the terms were accepted. And again I blew it, pushing it all away. I didn't want to know I'd drawn all of you, especially you and Marco into my punishment."

He looked down at the slack face, longing with an aching heart for the dark eyes to open and that familiar grin to stretch those blue lips. "Come on Johnny. Don't do this. Think about Roy. God Johnny, I don't think Roy can continue being a paramedic if you aren't beside him." Anger filled him along with fear and made him shout, nearly crushing the hand he held, "Damn it Johnny! You have to fight! Come back! Wake up and tell me what an idiot I was! Yell at me! Scream at me! Anything just . . .just . . ."

He slumped down, his shoulders drooped and his grip on the lifeless hand now gentle, "Just breathe again. Live again. Oh God, please. Come back." He wanted so to hear Johnny's voice make some sort of comment about the fact Chet was holding his hand or what a weeping willy he was being but there was nothing.

Someone touching Chet's leg got his attention and he turned to face them. He blinked his blurry vision and looked around. He now lay on an exam table in Rampart. A figure came into view and he recognized Nurse Dixie McCall.

She gave him a soft smile, "Well hello there Mr. Kelly. Nice of you to finally join us. Wait a second, I'll get the doctor." He watched silently as she put her head through the doorway then walked back over to him. Soon, the door opened again and Dr. Brackett stepped through the door. "Well, Dixie told me you were awake. How are you feeling?"

Chet remained silent, just shrugged his shoulders. The two caretakers exchanged a look then, Brackett pulled the penlight from his pocket and flashed it into his eyes while asking, "Did you hit your head?"

Again Chet shrugged. Brackett frowned.

"Can you tell me your name?"

Chet sighed, knowing what they wanted, "Firefighter Chester B. Kelly, it's October 31 and I was hurt at a structure fire." '_**where I got a good friend of mine killed**_**'** he added silently.

Brackett raised an eyebrow and again exchanged glances with the head nurse. "Well, Mr. Kelly you got all the questions right and even before I asked them. Would you like to know what I found?"

Chet's only reaction was another shrug.

Brackett's mouth twitched. "Well, I can assure you there should be no permanent damage. You've bruised some ribs on your left side and cracked your femur, that's the bone in your thigh, on your left leg. Your right leg is just bruised. We'll be sending you up to Ortho for a cast soon and then you'll be our guest for awhile." Brackett watched as the firefighter listened to what he said without any further comment or emotion. He frowned. Although Chet Kelly hadn't been in the ER as a patient much over the three years the doctor'd been familiar with Station 51, at any function where he'd seen Kelly, the Irishman'd been loud, somewhat brash and always giving his paramedics a hard time. This silent still man before him didn't fit into that.

He placed a consolatory hand on the injured firefighter's shoulder, causing solemn hazel eyes to look up at him again. "Are you in pain? We can give you something more."

Chet shook his head and sighed. Brackett's mouth twitched and he patted the shoulder, "Well, they'll be in soon to take you up." He motioned Dixie over to the door. "I'm not sure I like this, Dix. Make sure they keep an eye on him."

Dixie nodded and Brackett sighed as he looked again at the chart in his hand. "It could just be a reaction to all that has happened. Roy did say Chet told him he could hear Johnny . . ." he broke off, his throat suddenly unusually tight. He looked up and saw the tears in his nurse's eyes. He gave her a weak smile and placed his hand over hers, squeezing it gently. "This has been a bit of a shock on all of us, I guess."

She nodded, not saying anything, not trusting her reactions if she tried to speak at that moment. Brackett gave her hand one final squeeze then left. No matter what his personal feelings, he had a hospital to run. There would be time later to analysis all that had happened this night, maybe with a large glass of Glen Fiddich to help.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6 **_

_**Dealing with Consequences, Lessons Learned and Roommates**_

Ooops, sorry. I got my time off a little and Trish caught it, this sentence should read : Chet turned to Einin who watched solemnly from the corner. He shrugged helplessly and looked at the clock. It read **22:45.** Nearly four hours left in the deadline.

_

* * *

_

Chet lay on his hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. But his sight wasn't on what his eyes saw, rather it was turned inward, watching as his mind rewound the horrible scene at the fire. He again saw Johnny's body arch upward, expelling his spirit then collapsing slowly down, deflating as breath and life left it. For two days now he'd laid this way. People came and went from his room but he ignored them. He'd told the nurses when he first got there that he didn't want any visitors but at first, they had come.

The first was his captain who tried to get him to talk. Then Marco had come by. A nurse had wheeled him using a wheel chair. Marco laid a hand on his friend's shoulder and tried to talk to him, but Chet kept his eyes closed, his breath purposely even as if in sleep. Finally Marco stopped speaking and began praying in Spanish. '_**Don't!**_' Chet wanted to scream at him, "_**Don't pray for me! I've Damned myself with my own selfish actions. Pray for yourself. Pray for . . . for Johnny. That his soul finds the peace I wouldn't let him have here.'**_ Marco shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his breath coming out in a grunt of pain.

Chet sneaked a glance at his friend but couldn't look him in the eye, knowing he'd bargained with his best friend's life. He could see the bruises, the stitches on his friend's face, the arm in a cast. They all bore a silent screaming testament to his folly. They could have all died, thanks to his over-inflated ego. Instead, Johnny had sacrificed himself . . . no. He closed his eyes, fighting the tears that filled them. Soon a nurse came again and wheeled Marco away and Chet slept.

Next it was Roy—that was the hardest. The senior paramedic looked haggard, his eyes filled with sorrow.

'_**Of course**_,' Chet berated himself as he observed the paramedic from the corner of his eye, '_**I killed his best friend**_.' Roy was speaking but Chet wasn't really listening.

"Not your fault . . . didn't tell us about . . . . structural weakness caused the ceiling . . .. As a firefighter we know the risks. . ."

'_**Yeah, we know the risks in a fire. But we expect our mates to have our backs in dangerous situations. And what did I do? Coward that I am, I turned my mates over to the danger. I offered up my so-called friends instead of myself**_.' Chet chastised himself.

". . . just a bad fire. The Department is investigating it. There'll probably be charges." Roy inhaled deeper and looked down at his hands. "Chet, I know you don't believe this but . . . I . . . I think I'm right when I say that Johnny . . ." He took another breath. "Johnny wouldn't want you to be doing this. There was nothing you could do to get to either him or Marco. You were pinned."

A pain stabbed Chet deep in the chest as he heard Roy mention Johnny. His eyes filled with tears yet again but he refused to allow himself even that little bit of release from his agony. '_**Johnny. God, Johnny**_. . .'

Roy was continuing, his voice cutting in and out of Chet's hearing like a faulty HT, " . . . any fire can turn deadly and well this . . . . . . several others injured besides you guys . . . still in the hospital, he's doing better each day, the doctor's are encouraged . . . his funeral will be tomorrow . . ."

Something squeezed Chet's chest, making it suddenly hard to breath. Funeral, God the funeral! He hadn't even thought about that! His breath came in choked gasps and Roy was immediately standing up, his hand on the call button.

"Chet? Chet! What's wrong? Are you in pain? Chet, relax, slow down your breathing. Come on now, slowly, take deeper breaths." Roy tried to help his shiftmate. Just as the nurse rushed in, Chet looked up at him and for the first time since the fire, made direct eye contact with another person. Roy blinked at the naked agony in those hazel eyes, looking more green with the amount of unshed tears in them. "sorry. . ." he murmured. Then Roy was pushed back as the two nurses worked. "I'm sorry, you'll have to leave now. Mr. Kelly needs to rest." One said as she guided him out the door.

It closed in Roy's face, leaving him to stare at it, his mind on the pain he could see in his friend's look as well as the pain in his own heart. Then with a heavy sigh, he dropped his head. He had another friend to visit, then . . . then he had a funeral to prepare for.

Chet allowed the nurses to fuss over him and was soon drifting on the sedative ordered by the doctor. A 'no visitor' order was put in place on him. The next morning found him up and staring out the window. The day was bright with a brilliant blue sky barely broken with wisps of whitish clouds. It was the kind of day an outdoorsman would love, crisp and clear, unusual for LA. It was a day made for hiking, camping or fishing. '_**All things he'll never do again.**_' Chet sighed, '_**He'd have loved today**_.' He knew that on this sort of day Johnny would have packed up his gear and headed for the mountains. But instead, thanks to him, Johnny was being prepared for his last ride on the big engine.

He closed his eyes but unfortunately his mind supplied everything he knew was now happening. The rigs would have been polished to a brilliant gleam and black would be draped over the front bay door. Johnny's gear would be set out, his boots, turnout coat and helmet where all could see. The chapel would no doubt be packed; the young paramedic was well-liked even if he wasn't aware of it himself. He could see the gleaming casket sitting in the front, Johnny, motionless and decked out in his dress uniform, lying within. The priests would say their customary words, probably Cap would say something, and—of course—Roy.

Chet inhaled a sob at that, imagining the senior paramedic nearly breaking down as he told the others about what a great paramedic, firefighter and friend Johnny had been. Then the casket would be closed and the honor guard would come forward. They would bear the body of their friend out to be placed onto the bed of the engine. Or maybe, they would put him on the squad's back. He wasn't sure about that; there hadn't been many paramedic funerals since the program was still new. Whichever vehicle it was, he would be placed on the back, with others walking along behind or driving slowly in accompaniment. Then the slow processing to the cemetery would begin. Roy would probably lead with the squad, whether Johnny was on it or not, the reds flashing as he navigated his navigator one last time through the streets they had once protected together.

Chet's mental viewing of the funeral was interrupted by a nurse's arrival. "Good Afternoon, Mr. Kelly! My name is Lisa and I'll be your nurse this evening. And how are we today?"

'_**I don't know about you, doll, but I'm just peachy. They're putting my friend into the ground right now because of me**_.' Chet mentally answered. He could feel her cool hand on his wrist, checking his pulse and other vitals but he remained still, his eyes closed.

"Well, Mr. Kelly, things are looking good. How about it? Are you hungry today? The cafeteria fixed lasagna and it's actually good. Should I get a tray for you?"

Chet continued to ignore her. '_**Lasagna. Johnny loved lasagna**_.' He gave a mental snort, '_**Johnny loved any kind of pasta for that matter**_.'

The nurse waited for a reply and when she got none, she charted her information. "Well, then, I'll leave you alone. If you need anything, you have the call button right there next to you." She made sure the button was near his hand, then left.

Chet dozed, not aware of how long he might have been out. He looked back out the window and saw by the sun it must be late afternoon. By now, the funeral was over and Johnny was interred. The wake would have been going on. '_**I wonder, do Indians celebrate death differently? Do they have wakes? Do they even celebrate a death or do they just put them up on stick platforms or in the ground and leave them?'**_

Most of what he knew about Indian culture, he was ashamed to say, came from the books he'd read in the library to get Johnny's goat or what he saw in old movies. Johnny had scoffingly once told the whole crew that both of those were false. Chet knew how riotous an Irish wake was, he'd been to enough of them. Now he wondered how a ceremony for the dead would be done in Johnny's culture. He gave a heavy sigh, too bad he'd not shown any interest in Johnny's culture while he was alive to tell him. Instead, it had just become something more he could harass the younger man over.

A noise at the door brought his mind back from its musings but he kept his eyes closed. The nurse again checked his vitals, charted them then announced, "Mr. Kelly, I know you've been enjoying your peace and quiet but I'm afraid we've had to make some adjustments. You'll be getting a roommate soon. They'll be sending him down from ICU in about another hour or so. I understand he's a firefighter too so maybe you two will have something to talk about."

Lisa waited, watching to see what her patient would do with the information received. She knew he heard her, his eyebrows had twitched into a frown as she'd said he'd be getting a roommate, then raised when she told him the other man was also a firefighter. But, he kept his eyes closed, his body still. With a slight shrug, she left. As she returned to the desk, the elevator chimed and Dr. Brackett walked out, Nurse McCall beside him and followed by a gurney.

Lisa looked at the other nurse, saw her surprise mirrored in the other woman's eyes. "A Brackett escort? Great. What are we getting now?" She grumbled. The other nurse hid a smile as she hurried forward. Brackett nodded to her as he directed the orderlies with the gurney into Mr. Kelly's room. Then he called out clipped orders as the two men transferred the bandaged limp patient onto the bed. Lisa busied herself setting up the oxygen to the nasal cannula he wore and hung the IV from the pole.

Nurse McCall was taking vitals, making sure the patient, who remained unmoving all this time, had handled the transfer well. Once everything was secure and the patient was resting easily, Lisa left, leaving Nurse McCall and Dr. Brackett to look over the two men now rooming together. As one, the two walked over to the door, then looked back at the two firefighters; one blinking lazily at them, the other appearing sound asleep.

"Kel, do you think this will work?" Dixie asked as the blinking eyes slowly closed and their patient's face went slack with sleep.

Brackett looked at his patients, his mouth twitching. "Something had to be done, Dix. He's not eating, he hasn't spoken since he came in, Chet's body is healing but . . ." he shook his head.

"Yes but, putting them together? What with all that Chet has gone through? Will this work?" She was worried and it showed.

Brackett smiled as he nodded toward the patient they'd just placed in his bed, "**He** thinks it will. I guess we'll know soon enough."

They left not knowing Chet had woken up and heard them. Now he shifted in his bed, trying to get comfortable. In the bed next to him, he could hear the faint hiss of oxygen and the breaths of another person. He kept his eyes closed; he didn't want to see his roommate, or anyone else for that matter. He didn't care what kind of plan this other person, or Brackett, or anyone else for that matter, had made over his recover or lack of it. Then suddenly those same eyes flew open wide and his body shot up from the bed as a soft voice called, "H . . .hey, Ches . .ter B. How . ..how goes it?"

Chet blinked owl-like at the person blinking slowly back at him from the next bed. He shook his head in disbelief. "J . . J. . .J. . . "

Dark eyes twinkled as a grin spread across that well-known face. "Com'mon Ches. . ter. You can . ..say it. Say "Johnny""

"JOHNNY!"

Johnny pulled back, his eyes blinking faster. "Whoa! Down boy! I said say it, not scream it."

Chet's heart raced as his eyes searched the form in the next bed, dark hair tangled and mussed, dark eyes, that cut on his chin stitched now but he remembered it flowing red down the paramedic's neck. IVs ran into Johnny's arms and he wore a nasal cannula. It looked like Johnny, it certainly sounded like Johnny . . .

Chet shook his head, "But. . .but you're . . . dead! I . . . I saw you die. The Banshee wailed over you!"

Johnny's brows rose, "Banshee? Is that what that was? Oh." He smiled softly, "It's me, Chet. Really."

Chet sat back slightly but his eyes never moved from his friend's face. "I watched you die."

Johnny made a face, "Yeeeaaaahh, you did." He rubbed his chest and said ruefully, "Wonderful inventions . . . defibrillators. Sometimes they actually . . . work. Roy said they had to . . . to zap me twice to get me back." He shrugged as he looked into the wide eyes of his friend. "It helped that I had suffocated, . . . that's one form of asystole that you do have a chance of reversing."

He moved in the bed, trying to get comfortable and gasped in pain. Again he touched his chest, frowning, "'course, Roy fractured my cracked ribs with his CPR."

Chet shook his head in disbelief. Johnny. Alive. In front of him. Talking paramedic talk. Alive. Alive! "Was it a dream?"

Johnny looked back at him, then slowly shook his head, "I don't think so, Chet. I bet if you and I compared notes, we've both been through the same thing."

Chet sat back a little more, thinking over what Johnny had said. The he frowned again, "Wait, I saw them working on you and then stop. They were pushing meds and doing CPR and you weren't responding. Even to the defibrillator, you weren't responding."

Johnny kept his gaze on his friend's eyes as he slowly nodded. Chet swallowed the lump in his throat as he continued, "I held your hand, I begged you to come back, to live again. But. . .but.. ."

Johnny sighed, "I heard you. I. . . wasn't sure I wanted to come back."

Chet looked shocked, "You said they only zapped you twice and you were back."

Johnny's face was serious as he thought about that then answered, "Time moves differently in the spirit world than in our world. I spent quite a while there."

Chet just nodded his head, not sure what that all meant but assumed it must be so. After all, Johnny was validating what Chet thought had happened.

"You heard me."

Johnny nodded, "You told me about the curse. About the deal you got that Banshee to agree to, or the deal you _thought_ she agreed to." He looked with reproach at his station mate, "Did you really think you could swap your _car_??"

Chet blushed, "Hey! I love that car! It means a lot to me!"

Johnny yawned widely before he answered drolly, "Uh huh."

Chet looked closer at him, his face suddenly serious. "But it doesn't mean as much to me as you . . . or Marco."

Johnny gave a slow smile, knowing how hard it was for his friend to admit that out loud.

"Johnny. I'm sorry."

Johnny nodded, "We'll talk about that later."

They talk a little more, but Chet could see Johnny was starting to fade. Johnny gave his friend a tired half smile. "Oh, your aunt says. . . she's proud of you."

Chet looked over at Johnny in surprise. "My aunt? Here?" His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Which one?"

Johnny shrugged slightly and blinked slowly, "Don't know. Didn't say." Then a slow grin spread across his face. "Feisty. Pretty green eyes. She said she nicknamed you . . .uhhh buairt . . . means trouble . . ." He gave a faint snicker at that.

Now Chet blinked—in surprise. Only one of his aunt's had green eyes. And only one person had even called him buairt. "You saw my aunt. And she talked to you."

Johnny nodded, "Yeap. Nice long talk." He inhaled deeply then winced, "God that still hurts." He looked back over at Chet. "Oh and your cousin, uhhhh, different name . . . ummm, Nales . .. no, Niall. Yeah. Nice kid." Johnny yawned, his eyes drooping. "Said forgave you . . .long ago. Said, "Stop tryin' repeat. Ancient history." Johnny's blinks were getting slower and his voice softer, more slurred.

Chet was practically sitting upright now, his eyes wide as he stared at his roommate. "You saw them. Talked with them." His eyes narrowed, "Alright Gage, who put you up to this?"

Johnny shook his head, his eyes now nearly closed. "No one. Talked, saw."

"That's impossible! They're dead!"

Johnny rolled his head slightly so he faced Chet and his eyes opened a little more. "So? Dead can talk. Just hafta . . .listen harder."

Chet blinked as he unconsciously leaned toward his friend, "You can . ..see the dead?"

Johnny nodded slightly, his eyes sliding shut. "Sometimes. If they wanna be seen."

"How?"

"Tunkansidan, . . . Ate . . . both . .. spirit talkers. Medicine men, you'd say . . . . Said I was too. . . . Guess . . . so . . . ." Johnny's voice got slower and softer then trailed off, his head lolling to the side, his mouth falling partly open.

Stuck in his bed, Chet panicked. With his legs he couldn't reach his friend and he couldn't see if he was even breathing. "Gage? Gage! You're worrin' me a little here. Gage! Johnny! Are you alright?"

He pushed the call button again and again. "Johnny! Talk to me! Johnny!"

A nurse came up to the door, saw him nearly falling out of the bed as he all but screamed at his companion. The chart had said that these two were friends, station mates. But rumors had it that one didn't really like the other. '_**Maybe putting them together wasn't a good idea**_," she thought as she rushed forward. "Mr. Kelly! Please! Calm down. Now lie back before you fall and hurt yourself." Lisa easily pushed the weakened man back even as he strained against her, his eyes wide and his face flushed.

"Johnny! He's not answering: he was just talkin'. Johnny!" he faced the nurse, grabbed her arm in a tight grip. "You gotta check him; make sure he's alright!"

She nodded, trying to soothe the agitated man, "Alright, alright. You settle down and I'll check him. Ok? But you have to calm down first."

Afraid that time when Johnny needed help was being wasted, Chet forced himself to calm down. '_**God! I watched him die once. I don't want to ever go through that again!"**_ he thought panicked. But he settled in his bed and drew deep breaths to slow his racing heart.

When the nurse saw he was calming down, she turned to Johnny but kept her eyes still on Chet. "Mr. Gage?" No answer. The nurse took in the pale face, the slack features. She grabbed up a limp hand, her fingers on the pulse point on his wrist. It was there; slow but steady. As were his respirations. She pulled the blanket up higher and smoothed it over him with a pat.

Turning back to Chet, he greeted her with a breathy, "Well?"

"Mr. Gage is fine. His vitals are within range. He's just sleeping. Something I might add you need too."

Chet's gaze went back to his friend's slack face and he shuddered. It looked too much like the face he'd worn while they were working so desperately on him. "He was talking and he just . . . stopped."

The nurse relaxed with a slight smile. "Well, that explains it then." Chet looked at her, obviously confused. She shrugged slightly as she busied herself taking his vitals now. "He's still pretty weak. He just wore himself out if he was talking. He'll be fine."

"You're sure." Chet asked.

She nodded, "I'm sure." Then her face became serious. "While I'm glad to see you talking as well, if having him in here is going to upset you, we can move him. You need your rest too."

"NO!" Chet's voice was sharp and her eyebrows went up in alarm. He took a deep breath, calming himself before he spoke again. "No please. Don't take him away. I . . . It's alright. Really. Leave him here." He shrugged and tried to sound as if he wasn't really concerned. "I mean if he's really that weak, it's probably best he not be moved a whole lot, right? So, just leave him right here." But silently he added, '_**Where I can watch him, I just want to watch him breathe.**_'

"Alright then, Mr. Kelly. But no more of this ok?" She tucked him in with a smile. "Your mother has called again. She wants to see you."

Chet looked up at her, "My Mother? Yes. I . . . I'd like that now."

She nodded, "Alright. You rest now and I'll go call her." With that the nurse left. Chet relaxed into the bed but his gaze didn't shift from his roommate's face until his eyes slid shut in sleep.

The night passed and Johnny slept through it. Each time Chet woke, he immediately looked over to assure himself that the paramedic was indeed sleeping safely in the next bed. The next day passed the same way, Chet finally ate and watched Johnny pick at his own meals as well. The paramedic was still weak and spent most of his time asleep, his body trying to mend from the traumatic events he'd been subjected to.

Chet had been glad to see some of his shiftmates, and Johnny had been awake for most of the visits. No one stayed long, seeing how both men were still recovering but it was plain that they were all happy that their friends were recovering.

Chet found out that the collapse in the building had trapped three other firefighters from the second alarm called in. Two had escaped with minor injuries but the third had died instantly of a broken neck. It was his funeral Roy had talked about that day.

Later that afternoon, with his mother there, both stared at the once more sleeping man in the next bed. "You're right Chet. He _does_ look a lot like Niall." She shook her head, "I never noticed it before."

Chet looked up at her, his eyes big. Earlier he'd confessed everything to his mother. And though she'd gently admonished him for his actions, she knew he'd already been punished severely. "Mom? He said he talked to Einin and Niall. He said Einin said she was proud of me and Niall said that he'd forgiven me long ago."

Mother Kelly looked at her son, her hazel-green eyes intent. "You doubt him?"

Chet shook his head, "No. After what's happened? Not at all. Einin told me his people were spirit walkers. He said something about his grandfather and someone else being able to talk with the dead." He shook his head again, "No. After what the Banshee said, I don't doubt him."

She smiled and smoothed her son's hair back off his forehead. It was a very motherly gesture and for a moment, Chet wondered about his roommate. '_**Where was Johnny's family? Why haven't they been in to visit him? Roy's been here as well as Cap, Marco and Mike but no one else.'**_ Now that he thought of it, he didn't remember anyone but nurses or Roy visiting the man any time he'd been hospitalized. He paused; didn't the dark haired paramedic have family? Roy would know; he'd have to ask Roy.

A slow smile came across his face as he realized that now, he would have a chance to ask Johnny things and get answers. And he found now that he wanted to ask him.

"Your young friend was right, Niall's mother told me that he did speak about forgiving you before he . . ." She hesitated. It was still hard to remember the young vibrant life cut short in a foreign jungle just four years ago. It was his funeral that had finally brought healing to the shattered Kelly family.

She looked up to see the same look of sadness in her son's eyes. He looked down at his hands in his lap. "I wish I could've talked to him myself. I wish I'd had that chance." He looked over at his shiftmate, struck with a feeling of relief that this time he would get a chance to correct his mistakes.

Fiona Kelly laid a gentle hand on her son's, seeing his look and understanding it. "Niall would have liked that. You know he looked up to you. Before you started to . . . well, before. He used to follow you around so. He tried to imitate everything you and the other older boys did."

Chet nodded, remembering that. How that narrow face with those huge brown eyes seemed to be right at his elbow every time he turned around. The exasperation of a tween boy with a 'child' hanger-on had prompted the prank's beginnings. Then the laughter and comments from the other cousins just encouraged him. He'd never stopped to think about how he was hurting the one who thought so much of him. When the elders of the family had chastised him, he'd became angry and sullen, blaming the unwanted attention of the child for his embarrassment. He'd exacted more than his 'pound of flesh', so to speak, and his actions not only caused the family break-up but brought the attention of the family's otherworld guardians.

He sighed heavily.

"Chet, buchaill. It's over now." His mother's voice was soft.

Chet nodded, "I know. Finally, I understand. I've learned what the Shee tried to teach me." He raised his head, his eyes bright with convection, "And this time, I'll never break my vow again." He looked over as Johnny moved in his sleep, a frown crossing the dark haired man's face before it smoothed back out again and with a deeper exhale, he relaxed again.

Chet clasped his mother's warm hand in his, both of them still watching the sleeping man in the other bed. "The Banshee warned me to remember the price paid. I'll never forget it."

She nodded, her eyes again on the dark haired young man in the next bed. Suddenly she smiled, "Chet. Thanksgiving is in just a few weeks and you're off. You both will be out of the hospital by then. Why don't you invite Johnny to come celebrate the Kelly way." She chuckled slightly, "He's way too thin, and we need to fatten him up with some good ole fashion cooking. Besides," She patted his arm with a knowing smile, "I think we have a lot to be thankful for this year."

Chet tilted his head, "I don't know. I mean, yeah, you're right we do and yeah, I'll ask him. But he usually goes to Roy's. At least he did last year."

"Well, remember? Because of Siobhan's work schedule, we're holding the family gathering on Friday this year."

Chet perked up, "Yeah! That might work! If he goes to Roy's Thursday and comes with us on Friday . . .yeah!"

He reached out an arm, drew his mother close and kissed the top of her head, "Thanks for thinking of that Ma. I'll ask him, no, I'll go over to his house and drag his scrawny hide over." He looked back over at his sleeping friend, "I do have a lot to be thankful for and I'm just really starting to realize it."

Epilog

"So then the wasichu went up to Coyote and said"

"Wasichu? That means white man?" Chet interrupted.

Johnny made a face, "Close enough. So then the store owner went up to Coyote and said, "I understand that everyone thinks you are the greatest prankster of all times. Well, I don't believe it. I know you can't fool me. I've fooled every Indian around this place and I can fool you as well." Johnny's brown eyes twinkled as he related the old tale. He adjusted himself a little straighter in his bed and took a sip of the water on the tray in front of him, pushing aside the remnants of his breakfast with a frown.

Chet watched him avidly, intent on not only his words but the movements he made to accompany the ancient tale from his tribe. "And?" He prompted, finding himself eager to hear this tale.

Johnny grinned at him, "And Coyote looked at the trade-store keeper and said, "well, is that so? Well, I'd love to help you out but I can't right now.' The store owner scoffed, 'Can't or won't?" Coyote made an apologetic move to the storeowner, because he knew the storeowner was a vain man. And then he said, 'can't because in order to perform at my best, I need to have my cheating medicine. But alas, I left it back at my home. I would have to go back and get it and it's a long trip back to my teepee.' Then the storeowner frowned, because he really did want to prove to all there that he was the more clever man and that Coyote, no matter what the Indians said, wasn't anywhere as clever as him. So he said, 'well, how about if I lent you my fastest horse? Then you could ride it back to your home and return with your cheating medicine more quickly."

Chet gave a wolf's grin, suspecting where the tale was now leading. Johnny continued, his own eyes glowing, " So Coyote nodded and said, 'yes, that might work. But I'm not a very good rider and your horse might not let me ride him if he knows I'm afraid of him. What if you lend me your fine clothes as well? Then your horse will think I am you.' So anxious to get the battle of who was the better trickster over, the wasichu said, 'well all right. Here are my clothes; now you can ride my horse. Now go get your medicine. I'm sure I can beat you! So Coyote rode off, wearing the wasichu's fine clothes and riding the wasichu's fast horse leaving the storeowner sitting there waiting, bare assed and foolish."

Chet howled with laughter and Johnny chuckled heartily, sipping again at his water to calm the tickle that wanted him to cough. He was healing well, and knew it; it was just a reaction to him laughing but he didn't want to face the pain he knew coughing would cause him. He looked over at Chet who was wiping tears from his eyes, '_**Or**_ _**the pain my coughing would cause him.'**_ He knew Chet had been watching him closer than an eagle watched her chick over the last day. Part of him was surprised that this was the same man who had pulled all those mean-spirited tricks on him just a few days ago; part of him understood totally.

"That . . .That is the ultimate prank." Chet sighed in appreciation. "What an idea!"

Chet laughed in delight again and Johnny's grin nearly split his face in two. "That's really great, Johnny." Johnny nodded, drinking more of his water. "And you really think I'm like your people's coyote?"

Now Johnny looked at him, his eyes warm and gentle as he gave a firm nod. "You can be, Chet. Coyote might trick the people, but he never sets out to cause real harm. His goal is to teach and to bring laughter. The ones he really uses his most clever tricks on are those who need to be 'cut down to size' so to speak."

Chet sat back watching as Johnny leaned back into his pillows, his eyes becoming slightly unfocused. Chet knew his friend was getting tired again. After all, they'd been sitting up, telling each other stories for nearly three hours now. That was the longest the paramedic had been awake in the last three days.

"I'm getting a little tired, Gage; I think I'll take a nap." Chet suddenly said, knowing the paramedic would never do so.

Johnny nodded as he adjusted his bed downward. "I think that's a good idea." He settled back on his pillow, squirming around until he was comfortable. Chet laid back, folding his hands over his chest as he stared at the ceiling, listening to the comforting sounds of his roommate's steady breathing. Just as he was nearly asleep a soft voice said, "Chet? Ummm."

Without opening his eyes, Chet replied. "What John."

Hesitation then, "ummmm, nothing I guess. G'night."

Chet rolled over slightly so he could see his friend, his face showing nothing but concern. "Are you alright?"

Johnny opened his eyes, "Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I was . . . just thinking . . ." Johnny bit his lip, waiting for the snappy comment he knew that line would bring. When it didn't, he looked over at the Irishman to find he was staring at him, genuine interest in his eyes.

"Ok. What about?"

Johnny inhaled a little and decided to go ahead. "When we were. . . in there. And the Banshee was . . . with me . . . over me . . ."

Chet cringed as he, too, remembered the sight but he encouraged his shiftmate, "Yeah. I remember. What about it?"

Johnny blinked at him, his eyes dark and filled with innocent curiosity. "After . . . I left . . . I could still see her. What was she doing?"

Chet was suddenly struck with a sense of intense déjà 'vu. '_**Cousin Chet, tell me about the Banshee?**_' a small voice asked as large brown eyes blinked up at him. "She was keening you." He went on to explain the Banshee's role during the time of death.

"Oh." Then, "But I'm not Irish."

Chet grinned, "I know, but the Banshee herself said you had the spirit of a Fianna Warrior. No one tells the Shee what to do, they just do it."

"Oh."

Chet waited, knowing that his friend's natural curiosity would get the better of him. Silently he counted, '_**Four- three- two-…"**_

"So Chet, what exactly is a Fianna Warrior?"

Chet settled back in his pillows, a smile on his face as he began. "Long ago in ancient Ireland, there was a band of elite warriors, strong, brave and true. It was their job to defend the Irish coast from any and all invaders. They weren't just typical fighters, no, these guys were the best of the best. Their motto was: Truth in our hearts, Strength in our hands, Consistency in our tongues. Some of Ireland's greatest heroes were Fianna Warriors . . ."

He continued, listening to the steady sounds of breathing in the next bed as he watched serendipitously from the corner of his eyes as those wide brown eyes blinked slower and slower even as Johnny laid there in rapt attention.


End file.
